Joie de Vivre
by Winifred Hansen
Summary: She was ripped out of existence, thrown twenty years into the past, plagued by her loss and crucial knowledge of the future. And they just expected her to snog a Hufflepuff and steal his tie?
1. Prologue: 1998

Disclaimer: Don't own a ruddy thing, except my lovely laptop. I named it Ludwig II.

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**PROLOGUE: 1998**

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"_To live is to suffer, to survive is to find some meaning in the suffering."_

~ Friedrich Nietzsche

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The world had officially gone mad, off its rocker more like it, there was simply no other viable explanation. If you thought carefully about it, one would be inclined to think that staying alive should be fairly easy in this day and age. A piece of cake, really. If you thought further, one would come to the conclusion that there wasn't much you couldn't do nowadays, but instead a whole lot of things you _shouldn't_ do. Although, in hindsight, and ultimately the point in this matter, surviving had never been more comfortable and safe, than it supposedly was right now.

Therefore it was safe to assume that staying alive was a task easily done.

Normally, that is.

_Living_ was the one thing that was supposed to be hard; now she found herself in the precarious situation of having a hard time with both.

How did it come to that? It hadn't always been like this, she knew.

The depressing line of thoughts brought forth forgotten, well maybe not forgotten as much as hidden and stored, memories of her beloved father, her caring mother, and everything good and innocent from _before_.

It made her remember a saying, she would rather forget altogether, but recalled nonetheless.

Friedrich Nietzsche once said, that which does not _kill_ us, makes us stronger.

It was a phrase her father had often cited, when she had been nothing but a little girl with unmanageable bushy hair and a bucktoothed smile. He had worn out that stupid expression to the point, where those very wise words lost meaning and sorely started to lack in the encouragement department.

Truthfully speaking, it was no wonder she eventually came to despise it.

Back then she had attended a small local muggle school and was the prime target of bullies. Naturally, it was because of her bookish appearance and know-it-all attitude. In her mind there was nothing wrong with having a strong personality, but perhaps, in retrospect, she had come through as a bit too obnoxious and headstrong.

Also, by the general rules of society she had been labelled a freak; her magic had only served to highlight her differences. Odd things happened around her, when she was in desperate need of help. Hiding spaces that had previously been too small for her to use, suddenly appeared larger and ready to use as a temporary safe place. Homework and notes ruined beyond recognition would suddenly mend themselves. Things that by normal standards shouldn't have been possible, and wasn't normal at all.

She remembered how they would call her names as well, and not very nice ones.

Stranger Granger. Freak. Know-it-all. Beaver. Bookworm.

Not the most creative of names, she would admit, but it couldn't possibly come as a big surprise that they lacked in another aspect of life.

Children could be, and more often than not were, cruel to those unfortunate souls they didn't like or found even remotely different from themselves, or the vast majority. They certainly had no qualms acting so, despite who they hurt in the process; a fact she had discovered from an early age.

A fact she had learned the hard way.

To be fair, she had chalked it up to them lacking common sense, as well as manners for that matter, or rather, as the childish part of her mind had suggested - the case of non-existent, functional brain cells. Not unlike the mountain troll she had encountered at Halloween in her first year at Hogwarts, but now that she thought about it, the troll was probably smarter than those horrendous school children.

No books could have prepared her for the pain she felt through her early school years. She had obviously read about such crude and idiotic notions such as bullying, but naturally, she hadn't paid much attention to it. She had thought it so far away, and figured it had nothing to do with her. It could have been fiction for all she cared. Who in their right mind wanted to be cruel to others for selfish and infantile reasons anyway?

She had been ignorant and naïve in her logical approach in the matter, but soon found reality catching up. Bullying wasn't pretty. It was actually horrifying the way it had scarred her, the way it lingered long after, years after. It had left a deep imprint on her mind, she could still feel it every now and then, hear that little voice that repeatedly told her she wasn't good enough and that no one liked her. Even now, even after she had become friends with Harry and Ron, although most of the time it hardly mattered nowadays, but when they fought, or if they spent a little too much time apart and the absurd fear of them drifting away from each other would arrive, the feelings would come back with a vengeance.

She hoped the annoying and rather unreasonable feelings would gradually diminish.

She was a logical and analytical person by nature, she wasn't prone to acting recklessly on emotional meltdowns like Harry, and she definitely didn't have sudden bouts of irrational jealousy and anger like Ron, which was why it most certainly did not sit well with her, when she suddenly found herself feeling like the insecure nine-year-old, who thought she wasn't good enough.

She was above that. Above such mediocre thoughts and feelings. It was simply illogical and downright absurd, yet she still found herself feeling vulnerable, when her shield of cold hard logic would falter, and she would stumble through the unwanted emotions she had felt all through her childhood - and later repressed.

Muggle school had left a scar.

Later on she found, that there were other things in life that hurt a great deal more, learned that school bullies and afternoons spent crying in her mother's comforting warm embrace were the least of her worries.

She momentarily felt a pang of hurt, when she thought of her father's soothing words and her mother's tender hold. She missed them terribly, and the thought of them not knowing who she was, or the fact that they had a daughter at all, it tore violently at her heartstrings, viciously ripped and clawed at them.

It all seemed so far away, the days spent worrying over nothing, where loving parents and a good book could cure everything, maybe even a cup of hot chocolate if she was lucky. Now it was merely a memory from another time, and another life altogether.

It was such a damnable long time ago.

And again that stupid phrase came to mind.

Back then, in her muggle school, she had not understood how those silly little words were supposed to be any kind of consolation, and to be honest, she still didn't.

Although, she would admit that in a sense those obnoxious little words held more truth to them than anyone could possibly know, but _people_ simply didn't get tortured by Bellatrix Lestrange, nor did _people_ have Fenrir Greyback chasing them through a bloody forest at midnight, with the additional promise of a night of horrors, beyond the imagination of _simple_ _people_.

_If captured_, her mind reminded her.

To Hermione Granger those words were undeniably bollocks. They had been bollocks when she was nine and came home crying, because the twins Anna and Mia Pearson had made fun of the bird's nest atop of her head, and her much too large front teeth during recess, and they were certainly bollocks now.

Everything she had experienced the last seven years of her life had been, for lack of better words, a trial. Every single year something bad happened, be it death, pain, betrayal or even cold hard prejudice against something so crude and nonsensical as blood purity, or rather lack thereof in her case. A wee bit of bullying had long since faded in comparison.

She had seen enough. By Merlin, she had felt enough. She had nightmares that would make Freddy Krueger cower in fear, of that she was sure, and enough nightmare material to last her a lifetime. Not that she would get to experience that lifetime worth of nightmares, of course. By now she had unmistakably run out of luck, and the absolute worst part of it all, was that she had actually expected it.

Had they ever truly stood a chance against Voldemort? She wondered, and had done so for a very long time.

For Merlin's sake, that monster was almost impossible to kill.

Why couldn't he just die like a normal person, after being killed once before? Once should, by all accounts, be enough.

But no. He just had to go and split his soul into seven pieces like the insufferable bastard that he was. Lord-Bloody-Voldemort.

That bastard.

He was a bloody cockroach that's what he was; hard to kill, but not impossibly so.

And therein lay the problem, _they_, the golden trio, were way in over their heads this time. Basilisks, traitorous rats, polyjuiced Death Eaters posing as teachers and moronic ministry officials seemed like child's play in comparison to outright war. Because this was war. There was no sugar coating it anymore, no more Order members desperately trying to keep them out of meetings held at a rundown headquarter, no more being kept in the dark, and by default kept unaware of all the horrors awaiting them.

Hermione Granger, The Brightest Witch of Her Age, Mudblood Extraordinaire, lacking complete and utter faith in her own cause. Lacking faith in herself.

What a joke.

Over the last three months her ideals had slowly crumbled, her purpose in life seemed to have vanished for the most part, and most importantly; she hadn't a shred of hope left in her body. Not even when Draco fucking Malfoy had decided to join their pathetic little group of three, had she felt a spark of hope, but she supposed it was because her mind and body still hadn't fully recovered from Bellatrix's torture at the time. Her thoughts had been muddled and incoherent at best. Later on she had come to appreciate Draco's actions, as he had been the one to get them out of that awful place he once called home.

She had been grateful of course, especially when it came to her attention that Fenrir Greyback had developed a rather unhealthy obsession for her, and worse was, she had been about to be handed over to him, had Draco not intervened. Not that she remembered much of the ordeal at all; she had been near unconscious, when the boys had grabbed her and fled from their captors.

But in reality, Draco's contribution to their cause had only served to give them a week longer. A week of starvation, unbearable fear and tiring arguments.

Planning didn't go overtly well, when a Malfoy and a Weasley were thrown into the mix, apparently. But she supposed the outcome was to be expected. Pigs would grow wings and fly before those two buried the hatchet.

The first time they had begun planning breaking into Gringotts, it had turned into a bloody mess, although it wasn't completely unjustified on Draco's behalf. He was right. It was foolish and downright suicidal. Luckily she had, at the time, been able to control the situation at hand, or rather what had gotten out of hand.

_"Would you just shut the fuck up for one minute, Weasel? We all know you're delusional, but this, this is downright insane!" Draco snapped at the irritable redhead, whose ire seemed to be increasing by the minute._

_"Fuck off, Malfoy! This is none of your damn business! If you're too scared to do this, then I suggest you run back home to your mum with your fluffy little ferret tail between your legs!" Ron spat, sparkling blue eyes ablaze and wand in hand._

_"Sod off, Weasel! It's a fucking death trap, and you know it! Or you would, if you used that pea-sized brain of yours. Oh, I'm sorry, I forgot, you seem to have misplaced it for the time being, if you had one in the first place! Fucking Weasley." Draco retaliated, while grabbing for his own wand, his anger rising to meet that of the infamous Weasley temper. _

_"Shut up, both of you!" Hermione growled, clearly unimpressed by their lack of communication skills and immature retorts. She was hungry, irritable and their planning had gone south the minute Ron had opened his big mouth. She was most definitely in a bad mood._

_Harry, as per usual as of late, looked pensive and was entirely uninterested in the fight; instead he concentrated on the problem at hand, while hiding away in his own little world of peace and wonder. It was going to take a lot of planning to pull off a stunt like this. He knew that. Only Voldemort himself had succeeded in breaking into Gringotts, honestly, he wondered how in Merlin's soggy pants they were ever going to pull this off. Even with polyjuice, there was no guarantee they would come out of it alive, let alone find the horcrux that supposedly resided in the Lestrange vault. _

_Ron and Draco looked warily at each other, uncertain of how to proceed. Whenever Hermione chose to involve herself in their little spats, it never boded well for either. _

_Draco had come to realize that an angry Granger was a dangerous Granger. At one point Draco had even contemplated letting Hermione, in one of her surges of violent anger and pure murderous rage, have a go at the Dark Lord. He wondered if Voldemort would get out of that particular encounter completely unscathed, as Granger tended to get extremely creative when angered, or if he would simply kill her for her impudence. At that last thought he stopped thinking of such moronic ideas. He knew she wouldn't stand a chance against the Dark Lord. But it was certainly entertaining to think of the things she could do to piss him off, which were, without a doubt, many. _

_Ron mostly scoffed at her anger, but made no move to anger her any further. He was prone to idiocy, but he certainly wasn't suicidal._

_She sighed deeply, before launching into a longer speech. "Draco, I know this seems crazy to you, but we have no other choice. We need whatever is in that vault. If we want to kill him, it needs to be done. So for once, could both of you just stop arguing? It's hard enough as it is. And the next time you two morons decide to have a go at each other, I won't hesitate to interfere, and believe me when I say, I have had plenty of time for myself lately. One tends to get ideas, when alone." Both of them visibly flinched at the combination of her dangerous tone, narrowed eyes and final words. Even Harry, who had no part in this, winced at the implication of her words. No one wanted to be on the receiving end of Hermione Granger's wand and wrath, or in Draco's case; fist. _

A small part of her, the part of her exhausted mind and body, which longed for nothing more than peace, welcomed her impending death. But that part was heavily buried within the deepest darkest pit of her mind, as the horrors of suffering her end at the hands of Fenrir Greyback was much too horrifying and gruesome to even consider. Death could, in some ways, be seen as the easy way out, but in this particular case she knew it would be anything but. She had heard the stories about Greyback's victims, and she would be damned if she let herself become one of them.

It was amazing how quick everything could go from being all nice and cosy to being utter shite. She marvelled at the absurdity of it all. The beauty of being lulled into a deep state of false security.

Ah, but the sweet allure that was fear, which strangely enough was their only motivation these days. Cold, hard fear of what the world would become, should they fail their quest for justice.

It certainly wasn't because they wanted to be the ones to do this.

And who in their right mind had left three teenagers to be the wizarding world's saviours? Just who the fuck had decided Harry should shoulder this humongous burden by himself, Hermione and Ron not included, they were, after all, self-explanatory where Harry was concerned. Honestly there were limits to Harry's power, Ron's willingness, and her intelligence.

And now they were completely fucked.

They had been doing some last minute planning in regards to their upcoming break-in at Gringotts, but Ron, as always, decided to show his inner royal prat, they all knew was in there. He didn't trust Draco, and perhaps it would be prudent to say "with good reason", but this was war and they had very few allies left, still he refused to forgive and forget. There was simply too much bad blood between them. Literally. Of course, it didn't help that Draco taunted him at every given chance, and that Harry refused to take sides, something that made Ron even more furious and irrational.

It had started out as one of their regular spats and disagreements, but the planning itself had gone awry the minute Ron had mentioned Draco's former allegiance, suggested that he hadn't truly changed sides. The comment had been bad enough to make Hermione fly off the handle, before Draco himself had time to retaliate properly. Harry had, as per usual, refused to take sides, tired of the endless fights and eager to get the planning done. But Ron would have none of it.

Needless to say, the evening had turned into a bloody mess the minute Ron had opened his big mouth. Oddly enough she didn't blame Draco, because she knew it was just the way he was. She expected it of him. To be fair, he was out of his element, had single-mindedly chosen to abandon his family and their ideals, perhaps to right a wrong and ease his guilty mind. Who knew what went on in the mind of a Malfoy?

Contrary to popular belief, Draco Malfoy wasn't evil. He was most certainly a stupid, selfish prat, but evil? No, definitely not. He might prance around like he owned the world, but deep down he was just an untrusting misguided child, who unfortunately worshipped the ground his father walked on. Although, she had a feeling, he didn't feel particularly inclined to worship anything about his father lately, and with good reason.

So when she looked back on this night, it didn't come as much of a surprise to her. In hindsight, she should, perhaps, have predicted the outcome from the start.

The second Hermione had heard the angry shout slip past Ron's lips, that one bloody word that was supposed to be off limits, she knew they were screwed. She had seen Harry's head snap towards Ron and Draco, eyes wide and filled with raw fear. Somehow she had managed to grab hold of her beaded little bag in all the confusion that ensued only minutes after Ron's slip-up.

_"I have told you before, Weasley, I want no part in this idiotic mission of yours. Compared to you lot, I actually value my life." Draco scoffed uninterestedly._

_"Shut it, ferret! You're a bloody coward!" Ron shouted, frustrated with the young Malfoy before him._

"_Call me that again, Weasley, and I will make sure you go right back to that cell I so conveniently saved your sorry arse from." Draco grit out, more than offended by the redhead's stab at his bravery. _

"_You see, Harry? You heard what the traitorous little ferret said! He obviously can't be trusted!" Ron hollered, unperturbed by his rash choice of wording._

"_Just let it go, Ron, it's Malfoy, what did you expect him to say? Oh yes, I'll be right behind you, when we dress Granger up as my mad aunt and break into the most secured bank in the wizarding world. Honestly Ron?" Harry shook his head at the redhead, not in the mood for another verbal lashing that would no doubt evolve into a physical one. Ron on the other hand looked just about ready to murder Draco for being, well, being Draco, and then smothering Harry in his sleep for not backing him up. These days he was as bad as when he was wearing Slytherin's locket. Draco really brought out the worst in him._

"_I can't believe you would side with the ferret, that's a new low Harry." Ron was seething, and any minute now the bubble of pent up anger and frustration, the temperamental redhead had build up over the past week, would burst. _

"_Ron, be reasonable. We are all in this together, and if we can't even have a simple conversation, how in the world are we going to break into Gringotts? Let alone get out safely? And just remember, if it wasn't for Draco, we would probably be dead by now, or worse." Hermione interjected wisely, she had been listening to the boys argue over nothing, a familiar scene these days, seated beside Harry and somewhat captivated by the tale of the three brothers, a story she had read one too many times, yet she still hoped to find something new and useful to their cause. _

"_Reasonable? Reasonable! I'll give you bloody reasonable! He's a spy Hermione, that's what he is, why the fuck would he else be here? Huh? Do you seriously think the bastard just had a sudden change of heart? After seven years of tormenting us?" Ron spat angrily, there was no calming him down now, he was too furious and it was bound to end in disaster. In a way it was quite an amazing feat, how he could be so far gone, that all reason and logic had no way of reaching him, not even if it tap danced right in front of his eyes and then hit him square in the face. _

"_Now listen here Weas-" Draco started, equally angry at the assault on his credibility and intentions, but was interrupted before he could say anything he would later regret._

"_Spy?" Hermione's voice was positively toxic and her eyes narrowed into tiny slits. Ron had efficiently succeeded in awakening Hermione's slumbering anger, anger that usually, for all purposes and intents, laid dormant._

"_Spy?" She repeated, her voice rose to a higher, more deadly sound, and her normally bright and warm, chocolate brown eyes, turned a deep shade of dark brown. Harry cringed and looked frantically between his two best friends, no doubt worried about the outcome, then shifted his troubled gaze to Draco. He too, was looking a bit anxious, if not a bit paler than his usual alabaster complexion. Both boys knew it was going to get ugly._

"_Ronald Weasley, do you have any idea what you are saying, you ungrateful prat? You think they would try to kill their own spy? They bloody well nearly took off his head, on our way out of the bloody manor! Did you actually get a good look at Bellatrix? Because I assure you, I did. She was murderous! And why the ruddy hell would they let all of us go at once? Think about it, you bloody moron! They had Harry Potter, Undesirable no. 1, in their possession, his Mudblood best friend, and you, a known blood traitor. You think they would willingly let him go? Let us go?" She ranted, furious beyond compare, she had enough of Ron's outbursts already. He was still treading on thin ice, after leaving Harry and her to fend for themselves, and now he was frankly pushing his luck to the extreme. _

_His face had gone a horrible shade of red, the flush clashing terribly with the fiery red colour of his hair, and he looked ready to blow up any minute now. Unhinged and completely unabashed, the explosion of his temper engulfed them all in an inferno of cuss words and pent up anger. _

"_Are you fucking stupid, Hermione? The fucking ferret is a treacherous bastard! Have you forgotten how he's called you a Mudblood every chance he got? Because I sure as hell haven't! But if you really like him so bloody much, why don't you join him and run back to Voldemort?" Ron hollered, screaming until his throat felt sore and his body sighed from release of week-old pent-up anger, but as soon as the last word was spoken his body stilled, frozen by shock and instant regret. _

_They. Were. Screwed. _

_There was a frightening silence for no more than a second, before hell broke loose._

"_Weasley you idiot! You have condemned us all." Draco said, fearful and wide-eyed, and there was no hint of his usual sneer to be detected. _

"_What have you done?" Hermione whispered, stunned into silence and her fear growing by the minute, but even in her shocked state of mind, she had enough mind to reach out to her beaded bag on the table. Roughly, with no concern for the welfare of the old book, she shoved The Tales of Beedle the Bard, which she had previously been reading in silence, and everything else of value on the table, into the never-ending space in her tiny bag. Harry still stood frozen; seemingly unbelieving of the situation they suddenly found themselves in._

Everything happened so fast; it was all a blur in her mind, her memories were distorted and confusing. They had each run off in their own direction, there wasn't enough time to coordinate, and the second she laid eyes on Fenrir Greyback, she left all rational thought to wither and die at their abandoned campsite. She knew what he was. He was her worst nightmare come to life, and in pursuit of her at this very moment.

Before they had run off in different directions, she heard Harry shout a simple order, simple but necessary as they had all stood rooted to the ground, except for Hermione who had been busy grabbing whatever she could. It was like devil's snare had infested the forest and instantly grabbed hold of the boys. Her fingers were tightly grasping her bag like her life depended on it. To be honest, it did.

Never underestimate the value of a woman's purse.

"Fuck it! RUN!" His voice was filled with so much fear, and she was glad he was a Gryffindor. A lesser man would have broken a long time ago. Harry was strong, but she had feared for a long time, that he would break soon enough. Something was bound to give at some point, his sanity she feared, and she had a feeling it would happen sooner rather than later.

They had yanked the tent open and she ran as fast as her legs allowed her, charging forward in a fast pace beyond her normal limitations, adrenalin pumping through her veins like galloping wild horses. Her feet barely hit the ground as she bolted through the cold forest in an attempt to escape the abominable wolf-man, who had spotted her the minute she took off. She didn't think, her brain had moved on to autopilot. Hermione Granger was living on survival instinct and running for her life. Her little beaded bag was dangling in her tight grip, swinging back and forth as she charged forward, her wand ready to defend herself, if need be, in the other.

"HERMIONE!" She could hear Ron call out from some direction, but the words hardly registered, and she ran with all her might. She had only one thought and that was to run and get the hell away from Greyback. And she couldn't stress enough the importance of it happening now. Branches graced her flushed cheeks, they were inches from hitting her eyes, she hardly noticed. Thorns from bushes near the ground tore into the denim fabric of her trousers and she vaguely registered that warm blood was seeping through her trousers, but her body refused to slow down. She felt no pain, the adrenaline made sure of that. Her jacket hung open and loose on her upper body, the zipper bounced back and forth like a small pendulum in rapid little movements, and her wand hand graced it once in a while, when her hand came in contact with the small silvery zipper during her frantic movements.

Later she would be thankful for small favours, such as adrenalin, granted there would be a later.

She heard Harry in the distance too, but Ron's voice had faded into a silent whisper, or was he even shouting anymore? Had they by chance caught him, before he could get past the disapparition wards? Draco too, was yelling something. Curses and hexes most likely.

No words got through her mantra.

Run. Run. Dodge. Run. Run. Jump. Run.

_Run faster_.

She could vaguely make out Greyback's harsh and revolting panting somewhere behind her, perhaps he had not expected her stamina to hold up this long, and was therefore taken by temporary surprise. She too, was astounded by her prolonged physical endurance, but the fear of Greyback by far ruled out any stupid notion of taking anything short of a break. Minutes later she could feel her legs start to ache, and her lungs start to burn almost feverishly, the pain finally choosing to establish itself. If only she had the opportunity to apparate, then she could at least slow down a bit, but she was too unfocused to make an attempt, and had no idea if they had set up anti-disapparition wards upon their arrival. She would without a doubt end up splinching herself beyond recognition. The three D's were so far from her mind at that moment.

Run. Jump. Dodge. Run.

Harry's voice was nowhere to be heard anymore. Only Draco's hoarse voice remained, but in a matter of minutes he too faded from her radar. Was it all over? Or had they by some miracle escaped? She could still hear the nauseating sounds coming from Greyback, and they were closer than before. Much closer. In a thoughtless moment she chose to turn around, trying to assess the situation.

Her eyes widened, Greyback had undoubtedly caught up with her, and it was glaringly obvious that he enjoyed the thrill of the chase. She could see his tongue dart out to lick his cracked, dry lips, and the action made her shudder in revulsion. Whatever he had in store for her, she wanted no part in it.

In all her desperation she failed to look ahead of her, failed to notice the much too obvious hillside. And all too late she tried to stop to prevent the inevitable fall, but her body was going at an incredible pace, that in reality was much too fast for her small body. She stumbled downwards, and her eyes went wide the moment she felt the ground beneath her feet disappear.

She hadn't expected the sudden change of landscape.

She hadn't expected the sudden flash of light either.

She tumbled down the slippery slope, fast and hard she fell; somehow she had managed to turn around, desperately on the lookout for any signs of Greyback. But she saw none.

Odd.

She was sure he would have caught up by now; he had only been seconds away from her, seconds away from putting his beastly hands on her.

How she had the ability to sustain clear thoughts in that moment, she had no idea, but her mind, she found, had a newfound clarity she had sorely missed in recent days. Too bad the lucidness was about to be obscured by the consequences of her fall.

She tried to grab hold of something, anything, but to no avail. Her hands got bruised and scratched, in her desperate attempt to stop the fall, while awkwardly trying to hold onto her bag and prevent damage to her wand.

She feared it was over, when she felt her head connect with a massive stone on her way down the hill, and her leg smash into a solid tree, bones undoubtedly broken in the process. The pain was unbearable, but by no means the worst blow to come. The last thing she felt was an excruciating blow to her abdomen, abruptly passing out cold.

_Now_ she was screwed.

_TBC…_

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A/N: First chapter done, or rather the prologue. Hope you enjoyed it!


	2. Chapter One: Home

Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing.

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**CHAPTER ONE: Home**

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"_Home is where the heart is."_

~ Pliny the Elder

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Her head was killing her.

Every single limb attached to her body hurt like a hoard of hippogriffs had decided to use her body as a dance floor alternative, and to top it, there was a nasty pounding in her head that refused to slow down. She groaned loudly, and steadily willed her stiff fingers to stretch, and in slow cautious movements proceeded to wiggle her toes, a necessary action. Her body demanded a slow upstart; it was that sore.

She slowly opened her eyes, her lids gradually opening, and was immediately blinded by the cruel brightness that was the sun. She blinked a few times in an attempt to adjust and reacquaint her dry eyes with the beams of sunlight, then, when she was sure her aching body would move accordingly, she gently lifted her hands to rub the sleep out of her eyes, in a futile attempt to make the brightness go away. In the process she tried to sit up, her hands trying to lift her body into a sitting position, and she instantly groaned in pain, when every fibre of her body protested against the action, but she ignored the pain and soldiered on until she managed to get. She had been through worse, and hell if she would let a tiny tumble, and an aching body, stop her from doing something so simple as sitting up.

Then her brain started to function.

Where the hell was she? And why on earth was she in a bed?

She looked frantically around the room she was currently stationed in, and found, much to her surprise, and horror, that she was sitting in the Hospital Wing. Neatly tucked into a comfortable bed, and well cared for it seemed, after a grope to her head she found bandages, so apparently someone had been kind enough to care for her wounds.

But if she was in Hogwarts right now, wasn't she supposed on enemy territory? Her mind was working at full speed, as she turned her head to look at the windows. From the somewhat obscured view the windows provided her, she gathered that the weather was a great deal warmer, sunny even, than when she had camped in the forest with the boys. Just how long had she been asleep? Had she been in a coma? Why had they let her live at all? She had slipped into her own little internal world, trying to guess just what happened after her fall, when she heard someone give a call for attention, by clearing their throat discreetly.

Her eyes snapped up to look at the old man sitting a few feet away from her bed. From the looks of it he had been there the whole time, but in her confused state she hadn't noticed.

She really needed to start paying attention to her surroundings. _Constant vigilance_, as Moody would have said.

Then realisation dawned on her.

"Professor Dumbledore!" Her eyes went the size of saucers, whatever she had expected to see upon awakening, it certainly wasn't him. The pessimist in her, had perhaps expected to wake up battered and beaten to a bloody pulp in a dungeon somewhere, assumed she would be subjected to torture of the worst kind, she had expected to be anywhere but within the, now seemingly, safe confines of the Hospital Wing at Hogwarts.

Had she died, was that it? She certainly didn't feel dead, but then again, she hadn't exactly been dead before, so how could she possibly know how it would feel? Although, if she actually was dead, then why did it feel like someone had run the bloody Hogwarts Express right through her?

She scurried out of the hospital bed faster than her body should have allowed her, and cried out when her left leg made contact with the floor. It took mere seconds, before she realised it was broken, and badly at that.

She supported herself on her right leg, and bravely tried to ignore the unbelievable pain in the left, frantically she looked around for her wand, her eyes wild and searching. To her relief she quickly located her indispensible weapon on the table, right beside the nearly blinding white hospital bed, and no more than seconds later, had she grabbed her wand and pointed it at the Dumbledore impostor. Whatever pain she had been experiencing upon wakening was shoved far away and on time-out for the time being. She would deal with her pain later, assuming there was a "later" to deal with.

"Indeed I am, but the question is, who are you?" He asked kindly. "Furthermore, I would like to know how you breached the wards of Hogwarts? Quite a feat to accomplish for a young woman such as yourself." Curious blue eyes observed her and her surprised state, perhaps even amused at her antics. It was not every day Albus Dumbledore found himself held at wandpoint by a young woman in a hospital gown, and covered in bandages from head to toe.

"Am I dead, or is this some sick trick to mess with my mind?" She snarled, not caring one bit how rude she sounded. Exhaustion, along with pain and confusion, put a damper on proper etiquette. She was beyond any shred of politeness and witty comments.

She awkwardly shifted a bit, where she stood rooted to the ground in a hostile stance, trying her best to ignore the pain shooting up through her leg, but she kept her wand steady at all costs, still unflinchingly pointed at him; she wasn't taking any chances, not if she wanted to live.

"I am curious as to what makes you assume either, miss?" Blue eyes twinkling infuriatingly, still very much amused, he looked over his glasses to give her his trademark pointed look. Formalities were only polite after all. Not that she seemed to care one iota about any such courteous feelings at the moment, but he would have none of it, his gaze unwavering.

"Hermione Granger, and if you truly are Albus Dumbledore, as you claim to be, then you would know. Either this is some really Dark Magic, or something else entirely." Her eyes narrowed considerably, things simply didn't add up and her mind was working overdrive. How could he not know her? If he was supposed to be, or at least pretending to be Albus Dumbledore, wouldn't it be quite obvious that he should know of her name? Know her. The Brightest Witch of her age, one third of the Golden Trio, Harry Potter's best friend?

The Death Eaters were either starting to adopt insanely incompetent behaviour, much like their lord. That, or they really wanted to mess with her mind. Drive her mad with confusion and unanswered questions. What a way to go for a know-it-all such as herself.

They really had the whole torture thing down to a T, didn't they?

"I must admit that I have never encountered a Miss Hermione Granger before. And I can only wonder why you would assume yourself dead, and me as well?" He frowned slightly at her accusation; whereto worried blue eyes stopped their twinkling.

"Because the Albus Dumbledore I knew, died last year when Death Eaters penetrated the gates of Hogwarts and raided the school." She told him, her voice hard and edgy, positively arctic too. Expression blank and eyes dark, she was done playing nice. This setup was getting tiring, even for someone normally patient like her.

His frown deepened, that certainly wasn't the answer he expected to hear. Death Eaters in Hogwarts? Preposterous! Even so, the dark look she had in her eyes told him different, the way her eyes seemed to mirror her thoughts and relive past memories.

"Miss Granger, what year is this?" Blue eyes solemn and brows furrowed. He had his suspicions, and they didn't bode well for the wounded young woman in front of him.

"1998." She faltered for a moment, before answering, then proceeded to look confounded at the unexpected question, but ultimately it set the cogs of her perplex mind in motion.

The possibilities of that one _simple_ question.

It wasn't possible. It just wasn't.

At least it _shouldn't_ be.

On that note, she supposed, immortality shouldn't be possible either, but Lord Snake face had proved her wrong there. Even if the method was rather unorthodox in her eyes.

"Ah, that would explain the situation at hand, Miss Granger, at least somewhat." His blue eyes brightened up a bit, and his right hand went to twirl the strands of his long beard. "You are currently in 1977, August 28th to be exact. That's a good twenty years from your own time, I believe." He paused and looked at the shell-shocked girl, she lowered her wand ever so slowly, still not fully trusting his words, she kept her wand tightly grasped in her hand, afraid to be caught off guard, her leg twitching a little from cramping muscles.

"But… how? How is that even possible? How do I know you aren't having me on? That this isn't some crazy Death Eater scheme to get me talking?" Her voice cracked, eyes running wild again, outright refusing to believe his words, but she could feel the doubt start to manifest, and traitorous tears prickle yet refusing to fall.

"I was hoping you could tell me, and I assure you there are no Death Eaters scheming anything, at least not regarding you." He mused, although it was apparent that he was not satisfied by her answer. Doubt and uncertainty still lingered regarding the girl in question. Truthful or not, her acting was very convincing and on par with her claims, but he knew nothing of the girl and these were dangerous times. But for now he would humour her.

She seemed confused by his disregard for Death Eaters, "I don't know what to say..." She let out a croak. "I… The last thing I remember is being chased by Greyback, and then... I wasn't paying attention to where I was running... And the next thing I know, I am falling down some hillside and everything goes black." She fiddled with the hem of the white hospital gown and her eyes travelled to the wrapping located on her arm. Once she had escaped Malfoy Manor with the boys, she had spelled the bandage to stay on, as the scar didn't seem to heal properly. It would randomly start to bleed, and she figured there was more to it than that of a simple scar. She really wouldn't put it past Bellatrix to have cursed it as well.

Also the wrapping proved to be a good distraction, she had been prone to start staring at the words edged into her skin. It had got to the point where even Ron had noticed her constant staring, and that was saying something, when someone so ignorant and oblivious as Ron would take notice of anything outside the realms of his limited range of emotions.

"Mysterious indeed." Dumbledore mused, he had noticed her line of sight, and his eyes narrowed ever so slightly, but enough for her to take notice of. The bandage had proved impossible to remove from the girl, and it had bothered Dumbledore, as well as Madam Pomfrey. It didn't do anything for the mysterious girl's credibility. If anything it made her even more suspicious. Especially the location of said bandage.

Hermione had indeed noticed Dumbledore's rather intense staring at her wounded arm, and she found the slight change, in his normally kind and, if not somewhat quirky demeanour, unsettling. It was a downright disturbing sight to behold. He had a hint of a frown, clearly disturbed by his line of sight, and it seemed like he didn't trust her further than he could throw her.

And why should he? He had absolutely no reason, whatsoever, to trust her, and if he truly was Professor Dumbledore from 1977, then she was just an unknown, strange girl, appearing out of nowhere, apparently, and on Hogwarts grounds, disregarding all wards on said property.

As far as she could recall, 1977 wasn't entirely plagued by Voldemort, yet. He was still on the rise, although she was aware of the major difference one year would make. A year later the marauders would join the Order of the Phoenix and fight for justice and peace in the Wizarding World. This could be said to be the calm before the storm, and it would prove to be one hell of a storm, which Dumbledore had no doubt expected.

No bloody wonder Dumbledore was sceptic of her, he would have been a fool otherwise.

Still, it didn't make his suspicion any less unnerving and unwelcome.

She had, after awakening and analysing the situation at hand, realized he wasn't the Dumbledore she knew, or thought she knew, and meeting him now left a hollow feeling in her.

He wasn't the man they had all thought him to be; he was, by far, more cunning and calculating than they had expected, although his final years had perhaps added a bit of madness to the equation. Who in their right mind would leave an impossible task, like ridding the world of Lord Voldemort for good, to three seventeen-year-olds? He had only left them with clues that were up to them to piece together. Fucking clues!

She felt a swell of old feelings resurface, feelings of hatred and anger for the Headmaster, and she knew if she started a rant, she wouldn't be done for a while. Instead, sensible as she was, she settled on rattling his cage, it would serve the old codger right, to feel, if only a little, surprised; it would make for a _very_ nice change.

"I take it you want to know want is under my bandage." It was more of a statement than a question, and he only nodded in response. She spitefully muttered the counter spell for the sticking charm she had placed on the bandage, a creation of her own making and probably why no one had known how to undo it. _Nifty little thing_, she mused silently.

She gently started to peel the many layers of stained and grimy white off her arm, her bandage long since overdue for a change of fresh clean cloth, and she almost instantly winced, her whole body tensed and she allowed herself to let out a small hiss; the only indication of the pain she felt. Dried blood stuck to the stained white fabric, and it stung terribly, when she peeled off the last layers.

It still hadn't healed fully, and the angry red welts carved into her arm seemed to scream at her in a vindictive sneer. It was mocking her. Degrading her.

_Mudblood._

She retained her passive attitude, halfway positioned in a defensive albeit proud posture, when she put her arm on display for the Headmaster. In all honesty, she almost appreciated the smugness she felt, when she saw his eyes widen in surprise, as realisation dawned on him.

So he had suspected her of being the carrier of a different mark on her arm, and she could practically see the instantaneous change in his eyes.

"Not what you expected, Professor?"

"Not quite, I admit." He didn't deny it, and certainly didn't look sorry for his inaccurate assumptions, not even an apologetic glance. Instead, he appeared to have resigned to his musings and wore his customary, pensive mien.

"I am sorry to disappoint." Her voice remained cold, but she was surprised when she saw him pull forth his wand. He effortlessly raised his wand, and in graceful, practiced wand movements, he conjured a new bandage for her, and immediately after levitated it to her so he needn't stand. Her eyes followed the unswerving path of the newly conjured clean cloth, and when it came to a halt in front of her, she promptly grabbed it without hesitation.

Searchingly her hands felt the quality of the fabric, confirming it was all right to use, before she spelled it on. The angry red welts had chosen to act up again, blood began to seep out, and she faintly wondered if it would ever halt its arbitrary periods of pain, and surges of blood rushing out of the letters forever engraved on her arm. If it would ever fade and turn into an unsightly scar, regardless of the slightly vain and narcissistic part of her mind that screamed that the skin on her arm that would no longer be unblemished, but marked until her dying day and beyond.

"I am terribly sorry, Miss Granger, but these are dangerous times, and one can never be too careful." She nodded silently, thankful for his spur of the moment apology; she hadn't counted on getting one.

She warily eyed his wand again, and thought back to the many conversations regarding the Elder Wand, how she had vehemently denied all possibilities of it actually existing. Now she wasn't so sure anymore. Not after the brief encounter they had had with Ollivander. She could see Dumbledore start twirling his long silvery beard around the tip of his wand, and a thought came to mind.

"Thank you, Professor." She paused, contemplating how to proceed correctly, she vaguely noticed him nod in acceptance. "That wouldn't by any chance be the fabled Elder Wand, would it? Professor?" He stilled instantly, his ancient body momentarily frozen in shock, wand stuck mid-twirl.

That certainly got a hold of his undivided attention.

_Dumbledore 0, Hermione 1. _Petty thought. She knew that all right, but couldn't help it_._

She dearly hoped she hadn't shocked the older wizard too greatly; it wouldn't do to have him go into cardiac arrest, before the war had even started the first time around. Then she would be complete and utterly screwed, and so would the rest of the Wizarding world for that matter.

Well, more than they already were.

For several minutes he regarded her carefully, cautiously considering his next move, like he was playing an invigorating game of chess.

"What nonsense are you saying, dear girl?" So he still didn't trust her. She probably wouldn't have either, but that was beside the point.

"You can drop the act, Professor. I know of the Hallows. Among _many_ other things." She said tiredly, fatigue choosing to catch up with her delicate state of body.

"You know of the Hallows? How is that possible?" She had never seen the Headmaster act so baffled and confused. It was almost comical. But then again, the Hallows weren't supposed to be common knowledge.

"I inherited your edition of The Tales of Beedle the Bard. You could say you left us clues to piece together, but nothing concrete, although everything did point in the direction of the Hallows being existent." Hopefully that didn't reveal too much, but enough to make her believe him.

"I see." Never had she seen the Headmaster so shocked, so out of it and completely stumped. If the situation hadn't been so grave, she probably would have laughed, chuckled even, at his expense.

"Do you by any chance have my bag somewhere? I'm sure it was still with me when I fell." Her voice displayed the hopefulness she felt, but it was latched with scepticism of her actually being that lucky, in the case of her missing bag.

"Oh, yes of course." He must have nonverbally summoned her beaded little bag, because it came zooming from Madam Pomfrey's office, and landed on the bedside table at her side. She eagerly grabbed it, glad to see her safety line intact, muttered a spell under her breath, and rummaged through its contents until she gave up her quest, when she couldn't find the book she was looking for.

Dumbledore was looking mighty amused by the disappearance of her arm, when he realised she had probably placed an extension charm on it.

She was not without ability, it seemed.

He would have examined the bag himself, had it not been for the fact that it too was stuck, like her bandage.

She had learned her lesson, when the bag was taken from her at Malfoy Manor. This way only she knew how to open it. And if there was one thing to be said about Hermione Granger, it was that she learned from her mistakes.

"_Accio_ The Tales of Beedle the Bard." She muttered annoyed and winced, when she accidentally leaned on her broken leg. This wasn't going to be easy, having a leg like that.

_Highly inconvenient_, she grumbled in her mind.

"As you can see, Professor, this is your copy, although it should be twenty years older." She held up the book for him to see, but made no move to hand it over.

There was no mistaking it. It was his, although it appeared to be well used, a few marks here and there he hadn't seen before, but his nonetheless. It was a one of a kind and easily recognizable.

"It does indeed appear to be my edition. How peculiar." He seemed to consider it for a moment, made no initial move to grab for the book either, but instead scrutinized her exhausted frame.

"I think perhaps, Miss Granger, that we shall call it a day. You look dead on your feet, my dear girl. I suggest we postpone this conversation until Poppy clears you for leaving. You see Miss Granger, I might have snuck in here without Poppy's consent, and I hope to keep this secret between the two of us." His eyes twinkled with mischief. Perhaps, she realised, it wasn't everyday he got to defy the steadfast, and sometimes scary, nurse of Hogwarts.

"Sounds good to me." She mumbled, relief washing over her.

"I wonder how all this came to happen." She sighed deeply, tiredly, desperately wishing for answers to the plethora of questions her mind contained, though she had an inkling that she would never know; not in the near future at least.

"Time works in mysterious ways, Miss Granger. Perhaps it is simply an act of nature that we will never fully understand. And in your case, a second chance in life." The infuriating twinkling was back at full throttle, but at least she knew how to deal with that side of him. Playing mind games with Albus Dumbledore was a game she was sure to lose, she would be a fool to expect otherwise.

"Perhaps." Hermione said tiredly, while she carefully moved back to sit down on her bed. Being all riled up had taken its toll on her and combined with the aching state of her body, she was bound to get tired at some point. Her head still pounded terribly, and her leg demanded to lie down.

"Alright then. I guess I'll see you soon." She mumbled tiredly, eyes still focused on the Headmaster.

"Indeed you will." He smiled kindly at her. As an afterthought, he added, "I think some lemon drops will be in order." He didn't give her a chance to reply, but instead gave her a pointed look, and she probably couldn't have cared less at the moment, because her eyelids were stubbornly fighting off sleep.

She didn't hear him leave, but rather, slept the minute her head touched the fluffy white pillow.

* * *

When Hermione woke up again it was no longer August 28th, as the day had moved on, waiting for no one and leaving anyone behind who couldn't follow, it was now August 29th. It was early in the morning, by the looks of it, although she had no watch to confirm her hunch.

She could hardly believe it, perhaps refused to believe. She had somehow been transported to the year of 1977, and ultimately ended up at Hogwarts, of all places to magically appear. Hogwarts, her former school and home.

She was safe and well protected now, something she hadn't been in a very long time, and still she couldn't wrap her head around it.

To feel safe.

That was an odd thought.

But she wasn't really safe, was she? How could she possibly be safe, when Voldemort was still posing a threat to the Wizarding World, because he most definitely was, even in this time, he just hadn't reached the peak of his terror regime yet.

But still…

When had she last felt comfortable enough to get a good night's sleep? She had absolutely no idea, and if she was perfectly honest, then it was probably sometime before she started Hogwarts. But even so, she had slept through the entire night without waking, had no dreams or nightmares, it was just blank. Thankfully, complete and utterly blank. She was more than confused when she woke up again, thinking her encounter with Dumbledore and the notion of time travel had been nothing more than a cruel dream. How wrong she had turned out to be.

She just wasn't sure if that was good thing, yet.

Nevertheless, she was far away from home, out of her element and out of her time, a time where Harry and Ron didn't exist. Technically, she didn't exist either, not for another two years or so.

How messed up was that?

Truthfully speaking, she was in quite the predicament. She was breaking Merlin knows how many laws and regulations on time travel, but to her defence; she hadn't done it on purpose. She hadn't chosen to leave her own time and wind up in the year of 1977. She hadn't even thought it possible, not that far back, not even remotely close.

Not until now.

It also meant that this was her new home, not that she hadn't considered Hogwarts a home before, but _this_ wasn't _her_ Hogwarts.

She blinked, sleep still remnant in her dry eyes, and she tentatively shifted her body into a sitting position, careful not to hurt herself and dead afraid to make any sudden moves. Her leg hurt like hell, and she wondered why Madam Pomfrey hadn't just mended her broken leg, when she was so adept at it.

"What do you think you are doing, young lady?" A familiar voice thundered not far from her bed. It brought her internal musings abruptly to a halt.

"Sitting up." Her grip tightened on the white sheets.

"I can see that! You need to lie back down, if you know what's good for you. Your wounds are nothing I have ever seen a student obtain before, and believe me when I say, I have seen a lot of different cases over the years." That didn't sound good, not by any stretch. How bad were her wounds really?

"Is it that bad?" She could feel her heart sink.

"That bad? Do you have any idea of the severity of the injuries you sustained?" Her infamous anger flaring up remarkably.

"Very bad then." She swallowed hard, unsure how to react to the fuming nurse.

"Very bad indeed, young lady! Broken bones, shattered beyond simple healing charms, trauma to the head, multiple internal injuries, old nerve damage, minor scratches and lacerations, not to mention that bandage on your arm!"

Hermione winced, realising with a startling clarity, just why she had felt as horrible as she had when she first woke up. Tangling with time and Death Eaters weren't a good mix, it seemed. Perhaps she should consider finding new hobbies, as these seemed intent on killing her.

She was honestly starting to wonder if Harry had been the only one to attract trouble and dangerous situations. Now that was a scary thought. She could most certainly do without Harry's penchant for danger, but at least Harry hadn't seemed to receive all that many injuries, like she had.

It was no wonder she had slept like a log after Dumbledore left.

"When you put it like that…" She quietly scuttled back under the sheets, not daring to defy Madam Pomfrey, and temporarily in shock, when she realised she could have died, if they hadn't found her. And who had found her? Where exactly had they found her? It raised a whole lot of new questions.

"Miss Granger! Oh for heavens sake, don't look so startled, Albus informed me of your name, that old fool thought wrong, when he assumed I wouldn't notice his meddling." Perhaps Albus Dumbledore had badly underestimated his staff, especially the fierce nurse. But maybe it was for the best. It certainly saved her the trouble of explaining who she was to the older witch, and she wasn't sure she was up for it. "To think he would interrogate an injured girl!" Apparently Madam Pomfrey had taken it to heart.

"On another note, Miss Granger, Albus disclosed the nature of the wound on your arm, and I would greatly appreciate it, if you would let me take a look at it. There is often more than meets the eye, when dealing with wounds of this particular nature." Her voice had softened considerably, when she mentioned the wound, aware of the fact that it was a delicate matter.

"I don't see why not." She shrugged nonchalantly, but inside her emotions were on a rampage, angry tears were repressed before they could be spotted, and the murderous rage she felt for Bellatrix had to be suppressed.

Madam Pomfrey wasn't fooled one bit by her desperate need to hide her pain, but had the sense to forego any comments.

She bustled closer to her bed, grabbing a few vials from a small cabinet near the windows on her way, and hurried over to Hermione faster than she had thought the elder witch capable of moving.

"Now, first of all, this," She held up a small vial of fizzy blue liquid. "Is a Strengthening Solution, and you will need to drink one vial a day for the next week, and this," She held up another small vial, only this one was filled to the brim with an ugly greenish substance. "Is a Pain Relieving potion, of which you will be taking two vials a day, for the next two weeks. The longest I have yet to subscribe to a patient of this school." Madam Pomfrey sighed tiredly, and looked pityingly at the patient in question, not satisfied with her own verdict, knowing how addictive the potion could be, but ultimately had no choice in the matter.

"Furthermore you will have to drink a concoction of my own making, it contains various vitamins and nutrients, which your body desperately needs, to fully recover from this ordeal. I will not have any malnourished children under my wing!" She placed a medium sized bottle on her nightstand in a swift move. Hermione's gaze naturally went to the simple brown bottle, and noticed the lack of label on the bottle.

"Miss Granger, I don't know how you have previously lived, and it is certainly no business of mine, but your body tells a story of its own. I dearly hope you will take better care of it in the future." She shook her head sadly, knowledgeable as a nurse of how bad a state the young witch was found in.

The future. Such silly words, weren't they? She knew exactly what the future had in store for them, and it wasn't pretty. There would be no happy ending for anyone… _unless_.

Everything would happen again, _unless_ she changed it all for the better.

She decided then and there; she had to change it, she _needed_ to change it all, rules and laws forever be damned. If she ever found a way back to her own time, which she highly doubted she would, there would be nothing left for her. Harry and Ron, even Draco, were most likely dead or worse, her parents didn't know her and the possibility of reversing the memory charm was low, and the world, as she knew and remembered it, was changing for the worse. What was once her home was no more.

There was nothing left for her in 1998, except pain and suffering. And death.

"Now, Miss Granger, let's take a look at that arm, shall we?" With some difficulty Hermione managed to push herself up in a halfway sitting position again, rolled the sleeve from her hospital gown up, and spelled the bandage off for the second time in two days.

"Good grief!" Madam Pomfrey muttered under her breath, but Hermione heard her perfectly.

The nurse ran a few diagnostic spells, none of which Hermione was familiar with, her brows were knitted together in concentration, and seemed to take no notice of Hermione's squeamish behaviour.

She couldn't stand to look at the ugly letters carved into her own flesh, and turned her head to the side, so she wouldn't have to watch the despicable words appear in front of her again.

"This isn't a regular scar, and I'm afraid no amount of Dr Ubbly's Oblivious Unction or Bruise-Healing Paste will heal this." She shook her head sadly, almost defeated by her own lack of capability.

"As I expected, then." Hermione had yet to turn her head, and instead continued to stare blankly at one of the windows near her bed. She had expected the result.

"Miss Granger, this particular scar… There's a chance it might never fully disappear."

"But there's a chance it will?" Her eyebrows shot up in surprise, and her head turned so fast, it caused her neck to crack. She had been certain it would be there to haunt her, taunt her forever, and remind her of the insane witch who had cursed her.

_Tortured her,_ she thought angrily.

"Yes, but to be honest it depends on you, Miss Granger. This kind of Curse Scars feeds on your emotions and mental state. As long as this will bother you, as long as you aren't well, and as long as you aren't _happy_, it wont disappear. It is a simple curse, but because of the simplicity it might never disappear completely." Madam Pomfrey explained and watched how the young woman in front of her took it all in.

"That was better than I had hoped for." The answer brought great relief, even if the scar wouldn't disappear overnight, there was still a chance it would fade away with time, and that knowledge alone made hope spring once again.

"Such scepticism in someone so young, what has become of the world?"

"Believe me, you haven't seen anything yet." Hermione mumbled to herself.

"What was that?" Madam Pomfrey's brown eyes narrowed.

"Nothing… Can I ask about my leg? I am aware it's broken, that much is clear, but can you fix it?

"Oh, good gracious! I nearly forgot, what with all the other potions. And to answer your question, yes, of course I can fix it! What kind of nurse would I be, if I couldn't mend a few bones?" She seemed almost offended by Hermione's question.

"Sorry, I just wondered why it was still broken, when all my other injuries seems to have been taken care of. That's all." It had only just occurred to her, that everything else had been healed, with the exception of her leg.

"Because, Miss Granger, your leg needs Skele-Gro, and I decided to wait for you to wake up. Your body couldn't take the strain of all the potions at once, and I deemed the internal wounds of highest priority."

"Oh. Thank you." She said quietly, and then looked up at the nurse. "For healing me I mean."

"You're welcome. Now, enough chit chat, the Skele-Gro will be administered to you tonight, before you go to sleep, so for the time being you will have to make due with crutches. Albus requested your presence upon your awakening, but when you have taken the vials I have already given you, you will wait for at least an hour before I let you out of here. Is that understood?" She gave her a stern look, which said there would be dire consequences, if she wasn't obeyed.

"Of course."

"I'll leave you to it then."

Ugh, that left her with no less than two vials of gross looking potions and a whole bottle full of vitamins and nutrients. This was just her lucky day, wasn't it?

She had yet to begin downing the yucky potions, when Madam Pomfrey returned briefly, carrying a tray of delicious mouth-watering breakfast. Her stomach decided then and there to make itself known and grumble in protest, eager to be acknowledged again after the long period in which it had been neglected and forgotten to be fed. Food hadn't even crossed her mind.

"Eat up, Miss Granger, you will need your strength."

She didn't need to be told twice.

* * *

"You are certain there is no way for me to return?"

Not that she wanted to go back mind, but he needn't know that. She had already decided to change it all for the better, even if it went against the law. She peered blankly up at the Headmaster, not fully trusting his intentions, combined with the nagging voice that told her he was an accomplished Legilimens.

"Time is a fickle thing, Miss Granger, nothing is set in stone. I took the liberty of consulting a dear friend of mine, and to his knowledge there are several recordings of stories just like yours, recordings of people who have suddenly found themselves in another time. He said to think of it as fate intervening and your chance to right a wrong." He paused to consider how it was best explained, his blue eyes pensive.

"Time travel is a peculiar phenomenon, which defies all reason and logic, therefore you should not count on returning, Miss Granger." He paused momentarily, debating whether he should say what was on his mind.

"Although how you managed to sustain such grave injuries, I can only make guesses at. Falling through time was a feat in itself, and may have been part of the cause for the severity of your wounds, internal as well as external. The tumble you took down hill, I'd wager, might be another."

"I expected as much." She nodded absentmindedly, eternally glad that she wouldn't have to be sneaky about it, and that she received some answers, even if they were vague and unverified. "Then there should be nothing wrong with relaying everything I know."

"I don't see why there should. Although I have a feeling I might not like what I am about to hear." He began to stroke his white beard, pondering on the details he had gathered so far.

"I don't think anyone would, Professor." She sighed deeply, edged a few inches further back in her seat, trying to make herself as comfortable as possible. This was one hell of a story she was about to tell.

"I'm not sure how or where to start." She wrung her hands nervously in her lap, her unease choosing to act up, and feeling anxious about how to proceed. Not sure what to say and where to start. For Merlin's sake! If they were going to survive the upcoming war, she needed to tell everything she knew, down to every little detail and speculation she ever had.

"Then shall we start at the beginning? I find that it is generally easier to begin there."

"Somehow I had a feeling you would say that." She sighed for the umpteenth time, and turned her gaze away from the older wizard. Her wandering gaze eventually came to rest upon the many portraits behind the Headmaster.

"Oh?" He raised an eyebrow in amusement at her. "Did you now?"

Before she could snort at his obvious amusement, Hermione very nearly jumped out of her seat, when a sudden flare of flames appeared on the back of Dumbledore's chair, and only refrained from doing so because of her leg.

"I see Fawkes is well." She found herself blatantly staring at Dumbledore's stunningly beautiful familiar, greedily taking in every little detail down to the last feather, awed by the beauty of the magnificent bird before her.

"You know Fawkes?" He asked curiously, his hand going up to give his familiar a greeting pat.

"I do, although I admit I have only seen him once or twice. Harry had the honour of greeting him, though." She said fondly, remembering Harry's bright green eyes shine with wonder, when he told her about Fawkes, a real phoenix.

"Harry?"

"Harry Potter, the son of Lily and James Potter. Everything begins and ends with Harry." She couldn't look away from Fawkes, his beauty was mesmerizing, and he gave her strength to carry on.

"Don't hold back, Miss Granger, I do believe that statement requires some elaboration." His blue eyes twinkled curiously, but she had a feeling he wouldn't look so merry, when she was done explaining.

"Just remember Professor, you asked for it."

* * *

"A horcrux?"

She nodded in solemn affirmation.

"Horcrux_es_, Professor. As in plural, and quite a few, actually." She explained wearily, tired from thinking of being back to square one. At least they had killed off three parts of his soul in her original timeline.

"That's not possible." He looked disbelieving at her, shocked to his very core.

He had not uttered a single word, while she told the tales of many great and dangerous adventures over the years with her boys, and the horrors that had followed in recent years, explained every incident, every little detail, and had now come to an end.

"But it is. Very much so. I believe he has made somewhere around five at this point in life."

"Five." He looked pensive, the shock still apparent in his face, but toned down for the sake of processing the offered information, already starting preparations for this unbelievable complication. His disbelief had faded, and his brilliant mind was already plotting, planning to overcome the obstacles to come.

"Yes, five." She was so tired, the idea of having to start all over made her want to give up, but for Harry's sake she couldn't. If she played her cards right, he could have a loving mother and a father to see him grow up, even if she might not be a part of it.

"Miss Granger, I have a proposition to make. You will help me in the search of Tom Riddle's horcruxes, aid me whenever possible, if necessary of course, and you will in turn have a place to stay here at Hogwarts and I will see to all your expenses." He knew she needed a place to stay, and she could provide useful Intel.

"I can take my seventh year?" She asked astonished. The idea alone made her pause her internal rant about morality and manipulation. If there was one thing she regretted, then it was certainly the fact that she never got to finish her last year at Hogwarts. Even if most dreaded N.E.W.T's, she welcomed them with open arms.

"Indeed. As long as you provide me with your knowledge and assistance, I shall provide for you and see to your needs. You will know who will prove to be loyal to our cause, who we will need to watch carefully, and who to avoid at all costs." He explained. Nothing was free in this world, but she knew that already. The last year had proved that time and again.

"It's a deal." She said a bit too quickly, but found herself unable to stop. "I don't require much, but I will need books and some clothes of this time."

"That sounds reasonable. I would like to suggest one thing, though."

"What?" Her fingers drummed lightly on her thighs, relishing in the rough denim material beneath her fingertips, and trying to distract herself from the bad feeling his words left in its wake.

"You will need a legal guardian."

"But I'm already of age." Her brows furrowed at the suggestion, and the drumming stopped, her focus solely on him.

"Indeed, but for you to stay here, I will need to have your legal papers forged, and to have a soon to be nineteen-year-old transfer to Hogwarts, with no family or friends, will undoubtedly raise countless questions. As a muggleborn you are of age when you reach eighteen, a year more than in the wizarding world, therefore we only need to remove a year from your current age, to avoid suspicion. Also, your assigned guardian will only be temporary, as your birthday is in September." The mirth was back in his eyes, already recovered from the shock she delivered, and he found himself looking forward to working with the young woman seated in front of him. She was interesting, clearly skilful from what he had observed, bright too, and there was an air of mystery surrounding her.

"Oh." That actually made sense to her. "Who did you have in mind?"

"Minerva McGonagall, your old head of house. She is trustworthy, I gathered." He offered.

"Will she agree to it?"

"I believe so. I don't see why she shouldn't." He chuckled lightly, thinking of the strict but kind-hearted Professor.

"She was, _is_, one of my favourite teachers here at Hogwarts." Hermione said absently, her fingers playing with the hem of her loose-fitted t-shirt, a tight, pale blue vest peeking out from the worn t-shirt.

"Just one last thing thing Miss Granger, before I leave you to get some much needed rest, it might be prudent to change your name whilst you reside here at Hogwarts."

"If you think I am willingly going to change my name, you have another thing coming." Her name was not something she was willing to give up. She had spent enough time on the run, because of who she was, because of her name and associates, because of her blood. Now that she was here, somewhat free, she wouldn't give up that part. Not ever. Although, she mused, her sudden flare of anger might partially stem from a case of severe exhaustion. She had been in his office for at least an hour now, and the road through everything she wanted to forget, had drained her mentally.

"I think you misunderstood me, I merely meant your last name. As we currently don't know much about your current circumstances, it would only serve to protect you later on, should you return to Hogwarts in the 90s as you originally did. A theory of time travel and its consequences discussed in certain circles, but not yet proved." He eyed her, seemingly amused.

"Oh." That thought hadn't even crossed her mind, but he made a valid point. Time was, after all, an unpredictable thing, and there were hundreds of laws and regulations to consider, even if she had broken a dozen of them already. Her presence alone was enough to land her in Azkaban.

"Any suggestions? Perhaps your mother's maiden name, or something familiar to you. A name you will respond to." He offered.

"Then Edwards. It was my mother's maiden name. Is it all right?" She looked hopeful, like a little child wanting to keep the stray they had brought home.

"Hermione Edwards it is then." He stood to leave.

"I will need to inform Minerva of your existence, and hopefully she will agree to what we discussed. Until then I will leave you to rest in the Hospital Wing. I think, if all goes well, you will meet her later today." He offered, before gently ushering her out of his office, careful not to rush her in her delicate state of staggering dangerously with crutches.

"I'll see you soon, Miss Edwards." He said, his knowing blue eyes twinkling like they always seemed to do.

"Not if I see you first, Professor." She smiled gently, fatigue showing on her face and in the posture of her body. He let out a small chuckle, and she wobbled cautiously down the stair, taking it step by step, sure not to loose her footing and cause even more damage to herself.

It had been a surprisingly productive meeting, even if she wasn't completely sure if she should trust Dumbledore wholly. Only time would tell, she supposed.

If anything, she just had to make sure he included her in everything that was going to happen in regards to Voldemort and his horcruxes, not to mention the upcoming war. She was not going to be left in the dark, and she did have a few things she hadn't revealed just yet, such as what the horcruxes were - she had only mentioned them as 'the horcrux' and the like – and that she knew of his past.

She needed to end this herself, although his help was very much appreciated and needed, but she had been doing dangerous things, like this, since she was eleven. You could say it was her duty to end this. For Harry and Ron. For herself. For everyone she loved and held dear. This was her job. And she was all alone.

By Merlin, she was going to miss her friends like hell, but logically, she would make new ones someday, make a new life and a new home.

_But it will never be the same, _her mind reminded her cruelly.

_This_ was her physical home now, the place her body would inhabit and wander around every day until graduation, the Hogwarts of the 70s.

But - her _real_ home would always be with Harry and Ron, wherever they were in this world and beyond, her heart would always be with them.

_TBC…_

* * *

AN: Hello again! This is, as you have no doubt realised, the real chapter one. One of many to come, I assure you.

I do hope you found it to your liking. Somehow I found myself needing to split this chapter in two parts, because of the length, so I will probably be uploading chapter two sometime soon. (Honestly, when I went past twenty pages, I almost keeled over…)

Normally, I hope to update regularly, but because of the length of the chapters (don't blame me, blame the evil plot bunnies!), there might go a week or two in between. Also, I have a fulltime job right now, so if I promise an update and don't, then it's just me working myself to death. Real life sucks people, but I guess you know that already?

On another note, thank you so much for the lovely reviews, favourites and alerts! It keeps every writer going, I think. Don't hesitate to ask anything, I shall gladly respond to anyone, even if there might go some time before I get around to it. (Work tends to get in the way, but it is a necessary evil.)

See you!


	3. Chapter Two: Resolve

Disclaimer: I still don't own Harry Potter, however much I _wish_ I did.

* * *

**CHAPTER TWO: Resolve**

* * *

"_I fear all we have done is to awaken a sleeping giant and fill him with a terrible resolve.__"_

~ Isoroku Yamamoto

* * *

_Horcruxes._

Not horcrux, but horcrux_es_.

That was truly a surprising turn of events, if not a bit unexpected.

But quite befitting of Tom Riddle, he considered.

He wasn't sure if he should feel blessed by the time-traveller's appearance or horrified by her revelation. He settled on a mixture of both.

He was more than certain the girl hadn't told him everything, he noticed as much. She had deliberately foregone any mention of which objects had been converted into horcruxes, and the location of said horcruxes had been vague at best. Some he could make educated guesses at, others… Well, contrary to popular belief, he wasn't all-knowing. He was intelligent yes, but even he had limits in being omnipotent, which he wasn't, it was merely attributed to him by the public.

It was rather curious when you thought about it, how people tended to view him as an almighty superior being.

But then there was Hermione.

Hermione Granger, muggleborn and unintentional time-traveller.

He had recognized early on that he needed the girl, more so than she needed him, and she had unquestionably made sure of just that.

If he had been in a more devious mood at the time, he could easily have used legilimency on her, a forbidden and offensive magic yes, but the way she had deliberately avoided eye contact several times during their long and tiresome conversation, told him she knew of his ability and had expected him to use it. Perhaps that was one of the reasons she seemed reluctant to trust him fully, another thing which puzzled him greatly.

He was Albus Dumbledore, the leader and founder of The Order of the Phoenix, Supreme Mugwump, and Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot. He should by all accounts be trustworthy.

Then again, she came directly from a war-affected environment, and war tended to make people paranoid in the long run. So perhaps it wasn't so surprising she had difficulty trusting him, and by the sound of it, he had caused three very brave teenagers quite some grief. Had apparently pushed the limits of a confused young boy to the extremes, and ultimately lead him to prematurely take on the responsibilities of an adult.

That ought to have burnt a few bridges along the way.

He couldn't help but think it would require a great amount of effort on his part to mend that unmistakably gap separating them, undoubtedly caused by his own future decisions, rash and unreasonable as they were. But_ his_ nonetheless.

Hopefully, she would be practical and forgiving enough to see past his wrongdoings, as they had yet to happen, and never would, now that she had changed the game completely. Her presence alone changed everything as they knew it in this day and age, beyond even, and he would do everything in his power to protect her. He was to keep her grounded and satisfied, as she was the most valuable asset in this war, and they could not afford to lose her.

However, he could offer her nothing she would want, something told him. She simply wasn't the type to demand or want anything material. Therefore it wouldn't be easy to sway her, if he thought it was needed, she wasn't controlled and certainly wasn't fooled by anyone or anything.

She had knowledge and it made her dangerous, perhaps, in a sense, even more so than Tom Riddle at the moment. She was a time-traveller, and while it wasn't impossible nor improbable, it was still unbelievable dangerous.

To tinker with time, the mere thought made him shudder. Nothing good ever came from tampering with what had already been done and decided, and in doing so, right now, was bound to cause otherworldly consequences.

He would have to thread very carefully in his dealings with her and their quest, yet another thing to factor in the demanding equation.

To top it, she was steadfast in her beliefs, and hope sprung from her newfound resolve to change everything for the better. That was a risky combination, surely, and he would have to keep an eye on her, to see to it that she didn't land herself in unwanted trouble, which he had no doubt she would sooner or later.

Preferably later. Much, much later.

He sighed wearily, and pinched the bridge of his long crooked nose, mentally drained from the problematic situation at hand. He never did have a quiet moment, did he?

A loud knock on the door to his office sounded, and it effectively brought him out of his daze. Tentatively the door opened and a stern and proper looking Minerva McGonagall peeked through the half-opened door, concern somewhat marring her features.

"Come in, Minerva." He smiled kindly, and beckoned for her to come in.

"You wanted to see me, Albus." She closed the door behind her. "It sounded urgent."

"Take a seat, please." He gestured kindly in the direction of the same chair Hermione had previously occupied, and she took place without hesitation, visibly frazzled by the Headmaster's sudden request for her presence.

"Ah yes, I'm afraid we find ourselves in a precarious situation, Minerva." He said solemnly, his blue eyes without their usual mirth, and he seemed to have aged considerably since she had last seen him.

"Has something happened?" She worried instantly, assuming the worst, and the lingering fact that dark times were ahead of them.

"Indeed." He said gravely. "I believe the impending war has just taken a turn for the worse." He could see Minerva ready herself for an interruption, but cut her off before she could disrupt his explanation. "But not to fear, Minerva, we have received an extraordinary gift from whatever deity may be watching over us."

"You are making no sense at all, Albus." Confusion. He didn't budge. "A gift? What kind of gift?" She asked puzzled, still quite shaken from him using the unthinkable W-word. He had yet to mention war in her presence, even if they both knew it was coming, but now he had crossed that line, with no uncertainty present or lingering.

"A time-traveller with knowledge of the next twenty years has appeared on Hogwarts grounds."

"Surely you must be joking." She said outraged, clearly she must have misheard him.

"I'm afraid not." He said without faltering.

"This is madness, Albus! Surely you can't be serious." She stood up, her chair scraping loudly along the floor, hands gripping the edge of his desk, grasping so tight her hands were turning white.

"I am quite serious, Minerva. It is the truth. As we are now, things are looking quite bad for the light side."

"Dear Merlin…" She gasped, horrified.

"So the rumours are true after all." She exhaled, and slumped back into the chair, the colour in her hands returning gradually.

"Hermione has been kind enough to supply us with information and facts, which will be of great help to us."

"Hermione?" She looked up at the Headmaster, still in shock.

"The time-traveller in question. Her name is Hermione Granger. Hagrid found her near the forbidden forest, inside the castle's wards, on his way home from Hogsmeade. It was lucky he found her when he did, as she was in quite the state upon her arrival."

"This is too much to take in at once, Albus. A time-traveller. Surely there must be laws…" She trailed off, unsure of where to begin or what to say at all. How did one react properly in situations such as these?

"Which is why this matter will be handled with great care." He gave her a pointed look, not to be questioned. The message was clear, even if no words were spoken; the Ministry was not to be involved.

"Where is she to stay then? I imagine her identity will need to be kept hidden at all costs. If anyone were to get a word of this, the consequences…" She dared not even think of the possible outcomes, should anyone from the opposing side hear of the girl's existence. Should anyone with ill intentions hear of her, for that matter.

"She will take her seventh and final year here at Hogwarts, in her time it was not possible for her to finish her education, and it is her wish to complete it."

"How old is she?" Her brows furrowed again, not expecting this.

"Soon to be nineteen, which brings me back to my original intent of summoning you." He paused briefly, allowing his Transfiguration teacher to adjust to the information given.

"If you agree to it, I would like to have you act as her legal guardian until mid-September. I will have her legal papers forged before enrolling her, and in doing so; I will take a year from her actual age, to avoid suspicion." He explained carefully.

"But even so, she will still be of age Albus, what does she need a guardian for?" She asked, puzzled by the request.

"She is a muggleborn, Minerva, and even if she is a part of the magical world, she is still obligated to obey the rules of the muggle. It would be questioned by the school board, if she had not a legal guardian until she reaches maturity of the muggle world."

"She will need a cover story." She said, the gears in her mind turning.

"Ah yes, as you know, there has been an increase in muggle attacks recently, no one will question the appearance of a newly orphaned muggleborn witch. Sad, but true nonetheless."

"Is this really what has become of the world?" She shook her head defeated, unable to grasp the gruesome truth.

"I am afraid so, and we have yet to see anything truly horrifying, if Miss Granger is to be believed, which I have no doubt she is."

"Truly, Albus?" He nodded, unable to hide the sadness he felt for the next generations to come and the strain put on the current.

"I had hoped you would be her guardian, and accompany her to Diagon Alley. She will need school supplies and clothes of this era. I know it is a big responsibility to take on, but Hermione already knows and trusts you."

"She does?" Minerva said surprised.

"Yes, according to her, you were one of her favourite teachers in her time."

A silence fell upon them, as he allowed her to consider this unorthodox request, and he leaned back into his chair for better comfort, while he waited for her answer.

"I will agree to this on two conditions." She stated. "Firstly, the trip to Diagon Alley will need to be today, I have little to no time before the term starts and the students' starts welling around. Secondly, I want to see her once a week, once school starts. I cannot possibly imagine how she must feel like, being in another time, so far away from everyone familiar. I will not have her unhappy and feeling out of place."

"I can agree to the first condition, but the second you must talk to Hermione about. I cannot speak for Miss Granger, and I have a feeling she will not stand for any decisions made without her consent." He smiled in amusement, picturing how the young witch in question would react if anyone consented to such a thing without her approval.

"That sounds reasonable." She nodded, now feeling quite curious about the unknown time-traveller.

"Wonderful. Now, I imagine you have errands to run before meeting Miss Granger?"

"I'm afraid yes."

"Not to worry, Miss Granger is currently resting in the Hospital Wing, so take your time. Shall we say three o'clock? That should be plenty of time for a trip to Diagon Alley." He offered kindly, his clear blue eyes back to their twinkling.

"Plenty of time I should say. I will take my leave now then." She rose from her seat, straightening her robes in the process. "I will see you later, Albus."

"As I will you."

* * *

The trip back to the Hospital Wing was horrible; she was exhausted from the conversation with Dumbledore, and it had left her mentally drained, not to mention the extraordinarily long walk to his office had exhausted her greatly. She had been forced to take a Pain-Relieving potion by Madam Pomfrey, among other potions, not that she wasn't grateful for it mind, but she disliked potions in general. And now the effects had bloody well worn off, so she was stuck with a painful leg with a shattered bone.

_How lovely_, her mind sneered sarcastically.

At least her headache was gone, but her limbs were still very much sore. Her abused arm would sting once in a while, reminding her of the horrors, which lay beneath her bandage. That reminded her, thank Merlin Madam Pomfrey had removed the bandage on her head, the wounds had been healed already and there was virtually no scars left.

She had never used crutches before in her life, and she hoped she would never have reason to again. They were a bloody menace, even if they aided her. She looked forward to that Skele-Gro immensely, although Harry had told her it tasted horrible. Well, he had used a more colourful vocabulary, when describing the concoction, but she liked to refrain from cuss words when possible, even if she had found herself using them a lot more frequently as of late.

She almost yelled out in pure joy, when the doors to the Hospital Wing came into her line of sight.

She tried increasing her tempo, but only managed to stumble dangerously, before agreeing with herself that half-running was not meant to be done while wearing crutches.

She had to stop so as not to fall head first, cursed loudly, and tried again, albeit a lot slower this time.

"Miss Granger, I trust all is well?" The nurse eyed her intently.

"Never been better." She muttered, glaring at the hated crutches.

"Sarcasm is not appreciated, Miss Granger. Now, I will ask you again, is everything as it should be?" By all means, she did not just ask that? Nothing was how it was supposed to be. She looked at the nurse incredulously.

"Sorry." She mumbled. "The Pain-Relieving Potion has worn off, and it has left me in quite a sour mood."

She frowned briefly. "I suppose that is to be expected, you have been doped up on potions since your arrival, and with so many different kinds, I suspected the effects of each potion might overlap and negate one or the other, at some point at least. I'm afraid you will have to make due for now." When Hermione looked like she had grown another head, se explained further. "I'm sure you are aware of how addicting the Pain-Relieving Potion can be, which is why you will stick to the amount I have prescribed. That said, I can, however, use a numbing spell on your leg."

"That would be highly appreciated." She sighed in relief and slumped down on her bed after getting rid of the near life-threatening crutches, extremely careful not to hurt her leg. She ran her hands through her hair, lifting it gently to get some air around the base of her neck, and instantly grimaced. Her hair was disgustingly repugnant, greasy and grimy, she hardly knew where to begin. It was long overdue for a first class washing, rinsing and scrubbing.

"Can I take a shower? Cleansing charms will only get me so far." She looked hopefully at Madam Pomfrey, as if trying to coax her into agreeing with a pitiful stare as ammunition.

"I don't see a problem with that. You can use the prefects' bathroom until the term starts." She looked thoughtful, like she was trying to recall something important. "I think the password is _Aqua_. I don't believe they have changed it yet."

"Brilliant. I don't know how long it has been since I last had a real bath." She sighed dreamily, eagerly visualising the large pool-like tub, the different coloured water springing from countless taps, and the thousands of bubbles and foam. She was ready to leave anytime.

She turned her attention back to Madam Pomfrey, and nearly screamed out loud in annoyance. Again with the pitying stare, it wasn't like she could help it, not having the option to bathe regularly like normal people did.

Try living in a tent for almost a year, and then let's see how everyone else fared.

The nurse cleared her throat uncomfortably, but said nothing. She performed the numbing spell in a heartbeat, and watched Hermione's entire body almost sigh in relief, the tension and stiffness gone in a second.

"That will do, for now. I'll have your lunch ready, when you come back from your bath." She turned to leave.

"Thank you." Hermione whispered, and scowled when she realised she needed to use the crutches again, but stood up regardless, struggling towards the exit.

"Do you need directions for the bathroom?" Madam Pomfrey realised belatedly, Hermione already on her way out.

"No." She simply stated and closed the doors behind her.

Now she just needed to get to the fifth floor, which, by the way, was four stories up.

Just perfect.

* * *

The Prefects' bathroom was exactly as she remembered it, huge and extravagant, sheer size making up for most of it, but still impressive.

She had shed and dumped her clothes in a messy pile on the floor, to exhausted to care, and was patiently waiting for the grand tub to fill. She decided to use her spare time to get a good look at herself, and see, for real, what had become of her.

She stared critically at her reflection, and was disappointed upon sight. She looked beyond ghastly. It was really no wonder Madam Pomfrey had seemed to fuss so much; she had clearly seen better days. Anyone could see that.

Even her normally vivacious and bushy curls seemed lacklustre in their appearance, there was hardly any frizz left to give it a lively feeling, and the brown curls were tangled. Her cheeks looked hollow, and her skin had an unhealthy glow to it.

She looked ill.

She glanced down at her body and frowned. She had, regrettably, always been a bit to the lean side, although it could partially be blamed on her growth spurts, not to mention bad eating habits, when she got caught up in extensive studying, but _this_ bordered on malnutrition.

It most likely was.

Before, she had waved off Madam Pomfrey, claiming she didn't need the vitamins and nutrients the older witch had practically forced down her throat, even if her objections had fallen on deaf ears.

Now she wasn't so sure anymore. Her body certainly disagreed with her stubbornness and demanded a fair treatment in the days to come.

Her musings were interrupted, when she heard the taps halt the streaming water gushing out, a very welcome indication of a ready to use tub.

She sighed in bliss, when she felt her body sink into the heated multi-coloured water, her body relaxing wholly, and the tension was momentarily lifted.

For now she would put her depressing thoughts to rest and damn well enjoy her bath.

* * *

Not a minute later after stepping into the Hospital Wing had the scary nurse rounded up on her, but for the first time since arriving she couldn't care less. She was clean, her stomach full and her pain was kept at a minimum, reduced to a dull throb once in a while.

Somehow it suddenly didn't matter, how she was berating her for not drinking all of the vile concoction, consisting of nutrients and vitamins.

"Miss Granger, are you listening? It's about time to get your daily dose of vitamins, don't think it escaped my attention just how little you consumed of the bottle I left for you!"

Oh joy.

But at least there was food afterwards. Then it struck her. She would receive regular meals everyday.

Now that brought a satisfied smile to her chapped lips, all previous thoughts of disgusting potions forgotten.

* * *

"We meet again, Miss Edwards. Sooner than expected too." He looked over his half-moon spectacles, wordlessly inviting her into his office for the second time that day.

"Yes." Her answer was court, reflecting her less than agreeable mood at the moment. Maybe he should try drinking all the vile potions she had been forced to by Madam Pomfrey, then see how he fared afterwards.

The old codger would probably take it all with a pleasant smile.

Bloody menace of a wizard.

"I would like a word regarding your schedule, which classes you want to take and so on, before Minerva arrives."

"Can I choose freely?" Her eyes lit up instantly, all glowering temporarily forgotten in favour of stimulating her need for learning.

"If you qualify, yes."

"Okay." She took a deep breath, she had expected as much. "Then I would like to take Advanced Defence Against The Dark Arts, Advanced Potions, Advanced Transfiguration, Advanced Charms, Advanced Arithmancy, Advanced Ancient Runes, Herbology, Care of Magical Creatures, Astronomy and History of Magic." His eyebrows shot up around halfway through her listing, when he realised there was more to come.

"No Divination?" The scathingly contemptuous look she sent him made him chuckle gaily.

"Are you absolutely certain, Miss Edwards? It seems quite a mouthful." He gave her an uncertain smile, amusement dancing in his eyes. Apparently he hadn't been wrong in his assessment of her. That is if her ambitions matched her skill.

"I can handle it, I had originally planned on taking these classes in my own time, but I never got the chance to." She shrugged, not seeing the problem.

"May I enquire about you OWL scores? As you may well know, some of these courses have admission requirements, certain grades are needed to advance."

"I took all of those classes I have just listed, and the only class I obtained an E was in Defence Against the Dark Arts, I received O's in the rest of them." She said confidently, frowning a bit when she revealed her DADA score. She was by no means bragging, but proudly presented her accomplishments like any other capable scholar would.

"Impressive I must say, Miss Edwards. And I believe it does indeed grant you access to all your requested courses. I shall incorporate you into these classes to the best of my capability, although I fear you will overwork yourself." He said kindly, and he had no doubt she told the truth about her OWL scores.

"As I said, I can handle it. I imagine I will have enough time on my hands now." She said wryly. The concept of time left a bad taste in her mouth as of late.

Before the Headmaster could get a chance to reply, there was a loud knock on the heavy oak doors to his office.

"Ah that must be Minerva, impeccable timing!" His hands clasped together, as he called, "Enter."

"Come in, Minerva. Miss Edwards here is all set." He spoke merrily, when Minerva McGonagall emerged from the doorway. Hermione was immediately taken aback by the sight that met her. Her old Professor wasn't quite the sprightly seventy year old she remembered, in fact she looked better than she had ever seen her, in a fine emerald green robe, her trademark pointed hat cocked to the side, and her usual prim expression, which defined her. It was amazing to see her again, see her so free and unmarred by years of stress, and she had to violently choke back a sob, not wanting to appear weak in front of these two magnificent individuals.

"Miss Granger, I presume." She nodded politely and sat down in the chair right next to Hermione.

Not trusting her voice at the moment, Hermione settled on a nod, her nails digging into the palms of her hands to prevent any kind of outburst, be it of the teary or wordy kind.

"I gathered you already know who I am, so I trust no grand introduction will be needed." Hermione could do nothing but continue her silent nodding, then turned her head down to focus on the broken zipper on her jacket.

"Before we proceed, Miss Granger, I have one stipulation before agreeing to this." At this, her head shot up and her eyes went to meet her old Professor's, questions apparent in her wild gaze.

"When the term starts, I want you to come see me once a week. I will not have you feeling uncomfortable or unwanted at your stay here at Hogwarts, is that understood?" Again Hermione nodded, but this time astonishment was the cause of it. She had missed her compassionate Transfiguration teacher dearly. She had never once felt uncomfortable while staying in Gryffindor, even if it had been difficult to adjust to, as a muggleborn with no knowledge of the magical world, beyond that of fairy tales from her early childhood.

"Now that that is settled, there is still the matter of your trip to Diagon Alley. You have no objections to leaving now, do you Miss Edwards?"

"No." Her voice was a little gruff, and heavy with uncontrolled emotions.

"Edwards? I thought you said it was Granger, Albus?" Minerva started, confused.

"Oh that's right, I completely forgot to mention that earlier. My apologies, Minerva. Miss Edwards chose her mother's maiden name, so as not to arouse problems later on. We know very little of her circumstances as it is, and this will serve as protection."

"I understand, Albus, there is no need to explain further." She gave a court nod to support her statement and held up a hand to stop him from continuing his explanation, then sat up straighter than before.

"Good. Now, I will need you to set up an account in Gringotts for Miss Edwards, and then there is the matter of school supplies and clothes. I trust you can handle this on your own?" He said merrily, eyes twinkling with good humour.

"Of course." She scoffed offended, and relaxed her posture a bit.

Hermione observed the exchange with great consideration and wonder. It was puzzling to see them act so normally, exchanging small jibes with each other, as the Headmaster had just done.

How odd.

How _normal_.

"Perhaps I shall take my leave now. I have business with Madam Pomfrey before leaving for the Ministry, so I will leave you two to it now. The floo is already connected to the Leaky Cauldron." Without further ado, the old Headmaster exited his office and left the two women alone.

"So, Miss Gra- Edwards. Are you all set?" Minerva looked, really looked at Hermione, finally noticing the young woman beside her, and how downtrodden and awkward she seemed in her company.

"Quite." Hermione muttered, and Minerva sighed deeply, when she realised she was getting nowhere with her new ward.

"Miss Edwards, _Hermione_. May I call you Hermione?" That certainly got her attention, and Minerva found her surprised look rather amusing to watch.

"Of course, Professor." She flushed, a little blush staining her cheeks.

"Enough with the Professor. Call me Minerva, if only in private. When the term starts again, it will be Professor again. Is that clear?"

"Crystal." She smiled bashfully.

"Minerva…" It sounded odd to her ears, to call her former Professor and Head of House by her first name.

"Yes, Hermione?"

"Nothing, I just wanted to try and say it." She smiled contentedly, and for the first time since arriving she felt genuinely happy about something. Food and bathing not included.

* * *

Their first stop was Gringotts, most importantly to set up her account before venturing further down Diagon Alley and start purchasing half the street. A shopping spree with Minerva McGonagall, although 'spree' was perhaps a bit exaggerated. She wondered what Harry and Ron would have said about that oddity among oddities.

They climbed they white marble stairs to Gringotts Wizarding Bank in silence, Minerva was focused on the task of dealing with money-grubbing goblins, while Hermione took all of Diagon Alley in, noticing how different it seemed now that it wasn't plagued by countless disappearances and shut-down shops.

The heavy burnished bronze doors were pushed open by two goblins standing guard, their uniforms made in scarlet and gold colours, and she thought it reminded her of Gryffindor, as the pair moved to an available counter in the Main Hall.

"Yes?" An ancient irritable voice sounded, and the stern looking goblin peered down at the two witches.

"A school vault for Miss Edwards here is needed." Minerva stated, her voice and demeanour all business-like. There was no room for argument.

"And is Miss Edwards aware of the terms of such a deal?" He leaned over the counter to scrutinize Hermione, evidently trying to make her uncomfortable with his intense staring.

"Quite. You shall need my signature, am I right?" She said courtly, not showing any signs of cowardice.

"Indeed." He slid a document cross the smooth counter, and laid a standard feather quill directly atop it, to which Hermione stepped forward and skimmed the terms briefly, making sure everything was as she remembered it, before signing her name at the bottom. She almost made the mistake of signing her real name, but caught herself before making the crucial error, momentarily frozen for no more than a split-second.

Minerva had observed the exchange with great curiosity, and she felt a surge of pride for her new ward. She was brave and didn't shy away from unpleasant goblins. Perhaps Gryffindor would gain a new seventh year student this year.

Hermione slid the paper back to the goblin, satisfied with the contract, and ready to get the monetary dealings over with. The goblin examined her signature, and frowned for a moment, but said nothing as he regarded her carefully.

"Follow me if you please." He stated nonchalantly, and waddled towards the doors leading to the vault passageways, Hermione and Minerva following not too far behind.

She followed the grim looking goblin to one of the waiting carts, and mentally prepared herself for the long journey on the terrifyingly fast cart down into the deepest darkest depths of Gringotts Wizarding Bank. The oldest vaults were kept hundreds of miles below the surface, through dark and narrow passageways, it was where the pureblooded family vaults were kept, and she rejoiced in her mind, celebrating the fact that she wouldn't have to travel quite that far into the ominous depths of Gringotts.

She had never been particularly fond of the tour by cart, something she discovered soon after her parents had set up a Gringotts account for her, it had reminded her too much of muggle roller coasters, which she never quite had the stomach for.

She sat down in the cart reluctantly and scooted over to make room for Minerva. At least she wouldn't be alone in the cart, and by the look on her Professor's face, she didn't fancy a ride either.

It felt like hours later- or perhaps it was only minutes, when they finally stopped outside a small ornate door, countless of similar vault entrances could be seen continuing in both directions. These vaults were standard vaults, generally issued to new arrivals of the wizarding world, easily accessible and just as easily disposed of again. To sum it up, they were meant for students until they reached maturity and could afford, as well as had use of, a family vault, or temporarily used for minor errands with no questions asked.

For now it would do. If she survived everything to come, she would venture back and set up a family vault, like the one her parents so generously had gotten her when she was eleven.

Hermione stared intently at the door to the vault, mentally comparing it to her first vault. It appeared to be made of a dark, greyish metal, and was beautifully inlaid with swirling silver designs, but it had nothing on her first vault, it distinctly paled in comparison. She saw the goblin walked forward and stopped right in front of the door, and placed his palm upon a silver panel in the centre of the door. The door shuddered slightly and the silver turned to gold, the sign of approval. He removed his hand, replacing it with the bronze key and she watched as it was pulled into the metal. Then, without warning, it was released and the door swung open and ready for usage.

Minerva pulled a large pouch from her emerald robes and deposited in the insignificant chamber, it earned her an enquiring stare from Hermione.

"Albus requested you received compensation for your help. You can use it as you see fit, _however_, as a piece of friendly advice, I would recommend saving it for after graduation. Flats don't come cheap these days." She explained and gave her a pointed look, but even if she hadn't suggested saving the money, she would have done so anyway. Who knew when she would need the money?

"I know. I hadn't counted on using them anyway."

"Commendable." She gave a slight smile. "Is there anything you wish to deposit?"

"No."

"Good, then we shall proceed to Flourish and Blotts." She sat back in the cart beside Hermione and gave the goblin orders to return, a trip both women dreaded.

* * *

A bit further down the street on the South Side of Diagon Alley, not far from Flourish and Blotts located on the North Side, two handsome young men could be seen joking around, just emerging from Gambol and Japes, each with a bag in their hands and mischief written all over their faces, and a clear promise of pranks to come apparent.

"Oi, nitwit, who's that with McGoggles?" Sirius nudged James with his shoulder, nearly causing him to stumble, because of the unexpected force behind the nudge.

"Watch it, you mongrel." James fixed his glasses and rightened himself, then looked towards their transfiguration teacher, surprised to see the Professor outside the walls of Hogwarts.

"I don't know." He shrugged, "Maybe they are related?"

"There's no resemblance, Prongs." Sirius frowned and continued to stare at the odd couple, who had stopped to speak with a gruff looking wizard just outside Flourish and Blotts.

"I really don't know, why do you care?"

"I don't."

"Could have fooled me." James snorted loudly. "Maybe she's a new student." Sirius looked thoughtful at the new possibility.

"Since when do Hogwarts take transfer students?" Sirius asked sceptically and peered over at James.

"Fuck if I know, it was just a suggestion." James snapped annoyed, before they both settled for observing their professor and the mystery girl in silence.

"A bit weird with the crutches, wouldn't you say?" Sirius frowned speculatively. It was almost unheard of for a witch or a wizard to use crutches, a muggle invention, and normally not needed in the magical world anyway. Canes yes, crutches no.

"Not really, muggles use them all the time." James explained, wholly nonplussed by the enquiring look Sirius gave him.

"Who made you an expert?"

"Sod off. Lily explained a bit, you know." James grumbled, and tried to ignore his best mate by observing the young woman standing beside their Head of House. "She's got a pretty face though." He added as an afterthought.

"A bit too skinny if you ask me, and all, but dull. Like she lacks spirit. But I suppose she has a pretty face." Sirius said, cocking his head to the side and tried to appear uninterested, but there was something about this mystery girl that seemed to stick. To put it bluntly, she unnerved him.

He just wasn't sure why.

"I don't know mate, she doesn't strike me as one of those vapid girls, you know like Greengrass and Parkinson, but I could be wrong. And since when do you care for a girl's personality? Dull? Lacks spirit? Honestly, you shag everything in a skirt." James said incredulously.

"I do not shag everything in a skirt! It just so happens that the female population of Hogwarts wears skirts, and I have standards you know. I have a type." He huffed annoyed at James.

"Padfoot, girl is your type." James looked amused at Sirius, as he tried to defend his promiscuous way of life and flirty behaviour. Tried, but failed, miserably so. But hey, who was James to blame him? After all, Sirius did provide highly amusing entertainment.

"Just be glad you've dibs on Evans. She's a real firecracker that one. Good looking too."

"Oi! That's my future wife you're talking about!"

"Keep dreaming, mate. Keep dreaming."

* * *

They had spent roughly three hours browsing through more clothes than she would ever need and school supplies, the trip to Gringotts included, and were now back at Hogwarts safe and sound, albeit dead tired. There was only one thing left for Hermione to complete, before she could return to the Hospital Wing and the fussing Madam Pomfrey.

"Are you ready to be sorted for the second time, Miss Edwards?" Dumbledore asked kindly.

"Yes." Determination was notably in her gaze, along with nervousness, feelings of anxiety welling up, because of the possibility of being placed in another house than Gryffindor.

"Out of curiosity, which house were you sorted into before?" Minerva interrupted curiously, eying the younger witch with interest, and unable to resist asking. The day had proved to be enjoyable, and she had come to like her new ward immensely, as she was uncommonly intelligent and good company to boot, a sensible young witch, even if depression lingered and clung to her like a dementor to happy memories.

She couldn't possibly imagine what she must be going through, and she was taking it better than expected, which also worried her a great deal. No one as young as she, should shoulder such heavy burdens, nor should they have seen what she had and still feel obligated to fight.

But perhaps that was just it; because she knew what she did, she knew exactly how important it was to continue fighting.

"Gryffindor of course." She said, pride lacing her words. "Although, the sorting hat did consider putting me in Ravenclaw." She noticed the surprise in the older witch's eyes, and felt confusion wash over her.

"Did I say something wrong?" She asked concerned, as she sat down on a tiny wooden stool standing up against the wall.

"No, not at all, Hermione. You just reminded me of myself for a brief moment. You see, the Sorting Hat spent quite some time wavering between Ravenclaw and Gryffindor back in my time. But of course, I ended up in Gryffindor, after being such a hatstall." She smiled fondly at the old memory resurfacing.

"Really?" She asked, taken aback by the admission. Minerva nodded, almost shyly. Well, that was obviously news to her.

"It was quite entertaining, I remember, the Sorting Hat spent no less than five-and-a-half minutes trying to choose, before it finally decided on Gryffindor." Dumbledore interjected humorously, and pulled the hat down from its shelf.

"Oh hush, Albus. It was absolutely mortifying to be on display for so long." Minerva complained embarrassed, and looked on as the Sorting Hat was sunk further down on her ward's head.

Hermione felt the unforgettable pressure of the Sorting Hat landing on the top of her head, and braced herself for the sudden voice about to make itself known.

"_A time-traveller? I haven't had one of those in almost a century." _The hat hummed contemplatively, the soothing buzzing tickling her ears_. "Hmm, I see you were a difficult one to sort, as you still are, Miss Granger. Cunning and ambitious when needed, intelligence in spades along with the willingness to learn, unwavering loyalty, and last but not least, an excessive amount of bravery and courage, which puts many to shame..." _The hat trailed off, considering the challenging girl._ "But it better be…" _

"…Gryffindor!" The Sorting Hat erupted loudly, and Hermione sagged relieved against the wall, pleased to have been sorted into Gryffindor again. She looked up at Minerva, who smiled proudly at her.

"Ah, yet another daring Gryffindor to our collection." Dumbledore chuckled merrily.

"Congratulations, Hermione." Minerva smiled at her, and felt a smidgen amused by the younger witch's relieved expression.

"Thank you." Hermione mumbled unfocused, suddenly starting to feel unbelievably tired, a familiar ache taking over her senses, and a dull throb return to her head and leg. Perhaps she had overdone it, by running around Diagon Alley, well not exactly running as she had crutches to consider, and for a brief moment she wondered if she should have listened to Madam Pomfrey's countless warnings.

She slipped into her own little world of introspection, concentrating on fighting back the unease she felt, the pain steadily increasing by the minute.

"Are you alright Hermione? You look a bit pale." Minerva asked concerned, effectively bringing her out of her daze.

"You do indeed look a bit squeamish, Miss Edwards." Even Dumbledore looked worriedly at her now, realising how ill she looked.

"I do feel a bit faint…" She broke out into a sweat, her face white as sheets and devoid of the normal blush on her cheeks.

"Minerva, will you escort Miss Edwards to the Hospital Wing? It appears she is still not well."

"Of course Albus."

* * *

Madam Pomfrey's reaction was to be expected, the moment she had laid her eyes on Hermione, she had made quite the ruckus, even going so far as to yell at Minerva for not bringing her back sooner. To her favourite Professor's defence, she hadn't known of the severity of her wounds, nor had Hermione given any kind of indication of being in pain, until after her sorting that is.

"How on earth did you manage to sustain such grave injurious, Miss Edwards?" The medic nurse shook her head disapprovingly, wondering not for the first time how this young woman had lived prior to her stay in her care, then continuing her rant, "For a girl to acquire wounds and injuries of this calibre, you should take better care of yourself, do you hear me young lady?" Hermione could only nod in response, not really listening, but understanding the elder witch's need to rant and rave. It appeared to be nothing she hadn't heard from the nurse before, and she was certain she would hear it again and again.

And _again_.

"No matter, Albus said not to pry, but that doesn't mean you are not getting an earful, young lady. I never should have cleared you for that trip to Diagon Alley! With wounds like these! Unbelievable!"

She couldn't have agreed more. She had needed more rest, much more for a full recovery. But there simply wasn't time for insignificant matters such as rest. They were on the brink of full-blown war.

_War. _

How odd that sounded to her ears, and she was the one who was supposed to be used to it, not these people wandering aimlessly around the castle, bustling busily with everyday matters like Madam Pomfrey.

She, on the other hand, knew war, knew what it was like to be on the run, to hide in order to survive, to live everyday in fear of the next. To speculate when they would be able to obtain food, and more often than not went without.

Rest was clearly overrated in the case of war.

Yet her body demanded it.

But perhaps she owed it to herself, she conceded, to recuperate fully before rushing into the awaiting dangers, headfirst and no plan in mind. If she didn't wait, she would probably kill herself before Voldemort or any of his Death Eaters got a chance to.

Shame.

Oddly enough, she hardly knew which tactless option she preferred. Dying of time-inflicted wounds and her own inability to stay put, or die in battle?

Tough choice.

"I'm terribly sorry, Madam Pomfrey, but it couldn't wait." The murderous look in the nurse's brown eyes seemed strangely familiar.

That was clearly the wrong thing to say.

"If you keep this up, Miss Edwards, I assure you, you won't be around for much longer." She received a hard look from the angry nurse, and sunk further back into her bed, content to be back in the Hospital Wing, despite the angry hovering nurse.

She doubted she would survive anyway, but not before taking care of Voldemort first, then she could succumb to eternal slumber in peace.

How morbid of her.

Where did her happiness go? Her natural cheerfulness and joy of life? Exuberance a la Granger?

Oh that's right, it died along with her two best friends.

Draco didn't really count, but she supposed she missed him as well, in an odd sort of way. Like missing one's pet, perhaps.

Like missing Crookshanks.

She felt another pang of hurt shoot through her, although this was quite different, and not so easily mended. The tugging at her heartstrings was back. Again she fought back tears, and bravely tried to think of more positive things. It wouldn't do to linger.

She had thought of making a new life for herself, a tempting idea considering where, or rather _when, _her mind reminded her stiffly, she came from, but she knew in her heart of hearts, that it would never be the same without Harry Potter and Ron Weasley to accompany her through the journey of life. They were soul mates.

She could still try to fit in, though. The boys would have wanted that.

She sighed tiredly in resignation and decided then and there that she would definitely try for them, make the unnecessary effort, because she knew with certainty they would have wanted her to. Wanted her to move on and be happy.

But how could she possibly be happy without them?

She was thinking about the people she had met since she woke up, even if she knew them already, but to be fair, they weren't really the people she knew. They were different to say the least, strange even, if only because they hadn't seen what she had and lived through it all yet. She was already much closer to Minerva than she had been in the 90s, and had discovered new things about her she hadn't known before.

And yet, they all seemed to have one thing in common.

Pity.

She was dead tired of the pitying stares sent in her direction. It angered her beyond compare; she was not to be pitied.

Who did they think they were?

Hermione Granger, now Edwards, was a strong and independent witch not to be trifled with! How dare they? But they didn't know her, hadn't seen how she had bravely fought alongside Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley, for seven years straight without an ounce of hesitation. Hadn't seen her take on a full-grown mountain troll, survive a basilisk attack, bend time to her will and help an innocent man escape a fate worse than death, seen her guide Harry Potter through the triwizard tournament, seen her take on full-grown Death Eaters at the age of sixteen.

They had seen _nothing_.

Instead they had met the demure downtrodden girl ripped away from everything she had ever known.

Well, then it was up to her to change their faulty perception of her. And she would start by planning the death of the self-proclaimed Lord.

That would most certainly make them see her in another light. At least she hoped so. Either that or they would think her a complete nutter and ship her off to the Janus Thickey Ward at St Mungo's.

Regardless, she was steadfast in her decision, and nothing whatsoever could change her mind now. _Nothing._

Voldemort was going down.

For good this time.

Tom Riddle was going to die, whether he liked it or not, which he probably wouldn't, when taking five horcruxes into consideration. Well, tough luck Lord Snake-Face. See if she cared.

She had faced her fears, and now he was going to face his.

_TBC…_

* * *

AN: My, my, someone's feeling vengeful. Can't say that I blame her, though. Lord Voldie truly has no idea what is in store for him.

Joy.

Sorry for the wait, but I have been working non-stop. Anyway, I hope you liked it, even if Hermione is a bit depressing, which will change, I assure you, but these things doesn't just happen overnight, and right now it's important to the flow of the story. I mean, could you imagine jumping around merrily knowing you would never see your family and friends again?

Chapter three will involve some much needed tears, an overjoyed happy-go-lucky house-elf, and of course Hermione meeting everyone.

And thank you for the reviews, favourites and alerts. They are all very much appreciated.

My brain demands sleep now, so I shall bore you no more.

See you!


	4. Chapter Three: Tears

Disclaimer: I own nothing…

* * *

**CHAPTER THREE: Tears**

* * *

"_Both tears and sweat are salty, but they render a different result. Tears will get you sympathy; sweat will get you change."_

~ Jesse Jackson

* * *

She had now been confined to her bed in the Hospital Wing for two days straight under strict orders from a preaching Madam Pomfrey, and she already felt loads better than she had no more than two days prior. Her leg was, luckily, fully healed, and even though she wasn't allowed out of bed for anything else other than bathroom visits and whatever errands Madam Pomfrey deemed appropriate, she could still appreciate the fact that no pain remained. Also, she had gathered from Madam Pomfrey's daily check-ups that her internal wounds were as good as gone, and she had sustained no permanent damage. But she still needed to take those awful potions. For two more weeks.

Brilliant.

That would make her job much easier in the long run, not having to think about any previous injuries, when dealing with deadly Death Eaters and cursed horcruxes, even if she had to endure a few weeks with horrid potions. She sighed for what felt like the umpteenth time in only a few days, closed her eyes gingerly and leaned back against the squeaky hospital bed's headboard, and the notebook clutched in her hands fell limply to her lap.

There were so many things to consider. So, _so_ many. She had already lost count several times already and had finally decided on a notebook to ease the pressure on her strained mind, yet somehow she found her thoughts constantly wandering back to Harry and Ron. Even Draco came to mind.

It was a given she would miss Harry and Ron, but Draco? The world must have gone bonkers while she was unconscious, she concluded ruefully.

But it wasn't so weird to miss him too, was it? They might not like each other very much, scratch that – they _hated_ each other. She knew with certainty that he still loathed her as much as he did back in school, hated _her_ and her blood.

Even so, it was logical to miss any semblance of normalcy, and he, while they had lived in the tent, proved himself to be one of the only _normal_ things around. Cruel or not, he represented what had always been. Consistency. He might have abandoned everything he stood for and everything he had been raised to believe in, but it was certainly not because of a sudden change of heart in regards to his outlook on blood – he had made that much glaringly clear to her, she recalled.

"_This changes nothing, Granger." He spat venomously, staring her down with that hideously familiar sneer she had become accustomed to over the years._

"_Have it your way, Malfoy." She sighed. "Don't get me wrong, I'm grateful you saved us, but you are right, this changes nothing. I still despise you." She snorted wearily, still tired and worn out after her encounter with Bellatrix. _

"_You will always be a filthy little Mudblood no matter where you go, and don't think for one second I'm going to treat you any differently." He sneered at her, eyeing her dirty clothes with contempt, but she noted that his usual taunt didn't contain the same level of malice as it used to. _

_If she had to make a guess, she would say that he was confused as hell right now; he probably hadn't even processed his reckless actions yet._

"_I hadn't counted on anything else. Now go do something constructive before Ron have a go at you. And this time I might just let him." She rolled her eyes in vexation, mighty annoyed he was still standing there. Didn't he have something better to do? Well, probably not, seeing as there wasn't much to do in the bloody tent after all, she conceded somewhat grudgingly. _

_At least he was honest about where he stood, she considered thoughtfully. This way she could handle him accordingly, not that she had expected hugs and kisses from him of all people. But still, honesty was good even if it was potentially hurtful. _

_He glared at her and risked a glance at the redhead, before deciding to leave her in peace, muttering derogatory terms under his breath as he went. He understood quite clear that he was outnumbered, and knew without a doubt that it was bound to end badly, again, if he continued his insults – it certainly had the night before. Surprisingly it had been the temperamental redhead and not Potter, who took his insults and taunts to heart. Not that he cared mind. _

_Then he wondered why he hadn't just stayed at home._

She was glad he hadn't pretended to like her; she truly appreciated his honesty, even if he was a bigoted pureblooded jerk with an ego the size of a full-grown dragon. Harry and Ron had walked on eggshells around her after the incident with Bellatrix, treated her like she was a frail little porcelain doll about to break at the slightest touch. It was tiring, even if they meant well, and somehow Draco managed to even out their protective behaviour by treating her like she wasn't worth licking the dirt off his shoes.

It wasn't like she didn't treat him equally bad. That was what they did, insult each other to the best, or perhaps worst, of their abilities.

Funny thing was, she had cried then. It wasn't Draco's fault though, more their situation in general. She had cried silently in the dead of night as not to alert any of the boys, yet now, when she had more than reason to sob hysterically, she found herself unable to.

So far she had not allowed herself an outlet, to vent her sadness by crying her eyes out, to cry until her eyes were puffy and her face blotched and swollen. There hadn't been time to wallow in self-pity, so she had settled for a bit of emotional constipation instead.

It wasn't healthy in any way. She knew that. Holding everything in and refusing to cry. By allowing herself to keep everything in, well, this way it only continued to build up inside of her, and at some point it was bound to explode.

She idly wondered when that might be.

She turned her attention back to the forgotten notebook, intent on getting some work done before she got lost in the dreary depths of her thoughts again, but was interrupted by her growling stomach making its presence known – rather loudly at that.

She groaned in frustration and rubbed her temples soothingly. There was no trace of Madam Pomfrey, and she hadn't seen her since earlier that morning, so how in Merlin's name was she supposed to get something to eat? She had been prohibited from leaving her bed, and she was quite hungry.

Drumming her fingers absently on the notebook in her lap, she felt a streak of mischievousness wash over her.

Perhaps she ought to pay the kitchens a visit. It was terribly overdue, wasn't it?

* * *

Thank the Gods or whatever deity was looking down at her this moment! Madam Pomfrey might be blunt, not to mention she scared the bejesus out of her, but she certainly wasn't omnipotent. And thank Merlin for that!

It was enough having Dumbledore around, what with his all-knowing-psycho-powers and all.

But she had somehow managed to sneak out of the Hospital Wing, still in her hospital gown, but sensibly covered by her newly acquired black school robes to avoid the biting cold. Even though it was summer, the castle was still unbelievably cold, and with her current health she wasn't going to risk catching a cold.

Madam Pomfrey would most likely strangle her to death if that happened.

Holy hippogriff that lady was almost as scary as her grandmother Bea. And that was saying something. Not even her normally fearless Dad dared to defy the likes of her forceful Gram. So no. She definitely wasn't taking any chances with Madam Pomfrey. That ought to qualify as suicide – or just plain right stupidity.

She grumbled a bit in irritation and stopped in front of the entrance portrait, awkwardly tickling the pear to gain entrance, and purposefully stepped into the large kitchen when the portrait readily swung open.

Somehow she was caught unawares, staring blankly at the hundreds of house-elves welling around in the high-ceilinged room as big as the Great Hall, obviously preparing for the return of the students, apparently having forgotten the overwhelming amount of house-elves serving at Hogwarts. Hogwarts castle never ceased to surprise her, never had and probably never would. She was so caught up in her intense staring that she very nearly jumped out of her own skin, when she was interrupted by a squeaky voice beside her.

"How may Auggy help Miss?" A high-pitched, squeaky voice near the floor asked imperiously, and her attention immediately snapped towards the skinny house-elf addressing her.

"Oh. Um, I would appreciate it if I could have some lunch? Or is that too much trouble?" She asked nicely, once she got over her initial surprise.

Auggy eyed her guardedly, no doubt wondering at her polite choice of words and perhaps her strange attire, what with her fluttering black school robes and a hint of the hospital gown peeking out underneath the black robe.

"Certainly Miss, no trouble at all. Auggy will be back in a jiffy." Auggy said and went to get her lunch.

Hermione stared thoughtfully at the house-elf, _Auggy's_, retreating back, and had to wonder why she didn't wear the same clothing as all the other elves present in the enormous kitchen. She eyed the little elf's bright red t-shirt that was much too long and served more as a dress than a t-shirt, and the countless gold bracelets hanging around her tiny wrists with glee. Then, with much amusement, she noticed the very orange and green socks adorning Auggy's feet.

Had she truly found the female version of Dobby?

She let out a small chuckle while shaking her head amused, then sat down at the table near the kitchen entrance, not fancying getting in the way of hardworking house-elves. It still bothered her how they worked so hard and hardly got anything in return, but she assumed they were better off working at Hogwarts than other dubious places.

Although, she admitted grudgingly, they actually seemed to like work and working loyally for someone. It had been hard for her to comprehend with her muggle upbringing, and there were still exceptions like Dobby, so perhaps it wasn't a completely lost cause.

She was brought out of her inner musings when Auggy reappeared with a nice big sandwich and what looked like a glass of pumpkin juice on a shiny silver tray. God bless those little angels in discarded pillowcases and tea-towels.

"Thank you, Auggy. It looks positively mouth-watering." She smiled happily at Auggy.

"Miss is welcome." Auggy nodded, still surprised at her light tone and kind words.

"You can call me Hermione, you know. Miss is so infuriatingly formal, don't you think?" She asked, and Auggy's eyes looked like they were about to pop out at the suggestion.

"Hermio- Herminie- Hermy is a very kind witch, Auggy thinks." The elf stuttered hesitantly, and she could see little specs of red tinting the elf's cheeks. She mentally cringed at the horrible mangling of her name, but couldn't find it in herself to correct the cute little elf, and she vaguely recalled Dobby doing something similar.

Was her name honestly that hard to pronounce? Even Viktor had difficulty with it, and he was certainly no house-elf.

"Common courtesy I believe, although many witches and wizards seems to be lacking in that aspect." She frowned. "Why don't you sit down and join me while I eat? I would love to have some company, unless you have too much work?" Hermione asked kindly, and had to hold back a laugh as Auggy nearly died of shock.

"Is Miss Hermy sure? Auggy would hate to impose, when it isn't Auggy's place to do so." The little elf eyed her warily, still unable to determine her intentions.

"Of course! Sit down," She patted the seat beside her eagerly, "It's so lonely to eat by myself."

"If Miss insists." Auggy lifted herself up on the bench and flopped down beside her.

"Can I ask you a personal question?" Hermione asked cautiously, not wanting to scare Auggy away, then took a small bite of her grilled chicken sandwich. Pure heaven, she sighed in delight.

"Certainly. What does Miss Hermy wish to know?" Auggy said, and absentmindedly scratched herself behind her ear, big green eyes peering questioningly at the witch.

"I was wondering why you wear different clothes than the rest of the elves? It's not often you see a house-elf with such fancy clothes, or clothes at all." She asked curiously after she had finished chewing.

"Auggy is a free elf, Auggy is. Master Dumbledore himself pays Auggy five Galleons a month." She stated proudly, and again Hermione was brought back to memories of Dobby.

"I knew an elf like that once. He was very nice to my friends and I. He helped us a lot too." She said smiling, then added, "I think more house-elves should think like you Auggy. It isn't right for you and your kind to be enslaved, like most are, and not even paid! It's simply outrageous." Hermione said vehemently, thinking of all those poor house-elves that were repeatedly abused by their _masters_.

"That's exactly what Auggy said!" Her eyes lit up instantly, "But sadly even Auggy's mother thinks Auggy is mad." She shook her head sadly, her big bat-like ears flopping miserably from side to side in the process, and her gloom seemed to intensify when she noticed the disapproving stares from some of the older house-elves. Apparently elves didn't mingle with humans like they were equals, and certainly didn't join them through dinner or any other mealtimes.

"Well I think you are right, Auggy." She offered with a confident smile, reassuring the sad little house-elf the best she could.

"Miss Hermy truly is a kind witch." Auggy sniffed overwhelmed and Hermione patted the little elf gently on her shoulder in support.

"That's very sweet of you to say, Auggy." She smiled, and then accidentally looked down at her barely touched sandwich. "Oh my! I nearly forgot all about my lunch." She exclaimed humorously, and grabbed hold of her delicious sandwich once again.

"Auggy thinks it is best Auggy leaves now, Auggy promised to help Jilly pick up the vegetables for the Welcoming Feast. But Auggy liked speaking to Miss Hermy." Auggy said abruptly and jumped to the floor, when she realised she had kept Hermione from eating, which was very bad behaviour from elves.

"It was nice meeting you, Auggy, and I am sorry if I kept you from doing your job." Hermione said compassionately.

"It's okay Miss Hermy." Then she disappeared with a small _pop_, obviously leaving to find whoever Jilly was.

Hermione was left smiling at the empty spot, curious about Auggy, and overall feeling quite good about the exchange. She would do well in making new friends around the castle.

She contentedly turned her attention back to her barely eaten sandwich, and dug into it with gusto.

It wasn't long before she had emptied her the contents of her plate and glass completely, feeling full and satisfied, and she couldn't help but feel a little mischievous, what with sneaking out of the Hospital Wing and all. She was regular little marauding mischief-maker these days.

She froze in her seat and her eyes widened marginally.

Oh bloody fucking hell!

The Marauders!

Harry's parents. Oh Merlin, Harry's parents.

She felt her heart drop cruelly, and was left with a bad taste in her mouth.

And Sirius! Not to mention her old teachers and one traitorous rat. How had that freaking humongous detail escaped her attention for so long?

She was slowly beginning to question her own intelligence, or rather lack thereof in recent days.

Had Madam Pomfrey been wrong? Had she actually sustained permanent brain damage? God, she hoped not. She had ten NEWT classes to pass, a dark lord to kill and horcruxes to destroy. Her brain did not get to take a holiday now!

But oh, to be incompetent and dimwitted. Ha, she could only dream...

She was still royally fucked.

She swore under her breath and glared at her empty plate in front of her. Someone had it out for her, she was absolutely certain.

_Now what?_

* * *

After her eye opening, heart stopping, downright unpleasant realisation, Hermione had trudged sullenly back to the Hospital Wing in a daze, not certain how to deal with her newly discovered problem. She had barely even heard Madam Pomfrey and her daily ranting, which was quite a feat in itself, and before she knew it, day turned into night and night turned into day. It was the 1st of September, the most dreaded day of all, in Hermione's opinion at least.

Emotional overload.

At the moment there was no other sensible words fitting the description of what she was feeling. It was too much to take in at once. One thing was to attend Hogwarts in the late 70s, another was to encounter people one knew or had heard of at some point, but _this_ had not been in the job description!

How was she ever going to face these people? Face Harry's parents and godfather. Not to mention the people she knew would betray everything good and pure?

It was currently the night of the welcoming feast and the beginning of a new school year, and Madam Pomfrey had luckily not allowed her attendance in the Great Hall, which she had been grateful for. At least she wouldn't have to deal at every damn student of the school gawking at her like she was some kind of rare animal species. It would be far easier to deal with curious students little by little, or at least she hoped it would. It could also be a bad case of procrastination from her side, but either way she was happy she would have at least one more night to herself.

A familiar, barely audible pop sounded beside her bed, and she turned her head to find Auggy staring expectantly up at her with another tray of a mouth-watering meal.

"Auggy is here to bring Miss Hermy dinner." The little elf stated proudly.

"Thank you, Auggy." Hermione said surprised. She had of course counted on someone bringing her dinner, since Madam Pomfrey had to be present at the feast, but hadn't expected to see Auggy again so soon.

"It's nice to see you again, Auggy." She smiled at the elf, this time wearing a bright orange t-shirt.

"Auggy thinks it's good to see Miss Hermy again too." Auggy smiled sheepishly. "But Auggy is afraid she can't stay much longer, Auggy is needed in the kitchen tonight."

"Oh. Okay then, but feel free to come see me whenever you like." Hermione said a bit disappointedly, hoping she would have had some company for the night.

"Auggy will do that. Have a good night Miss Hermy." Auggy said sweetly.

"You too, Auggy."

Again Hermione found herself staring bewildered at an empty spot, lost in thought as she remembered her current situation. She angrily shook her head, brandishing all negative thoughts and concentrated on her dinner.

It really was delicious, and she ate with pleasure, until she couldn't keep her feelings buried anymore, suppressed to the point of being in danger of exploding.

Suddenly it was all too much, everything crashed down on her. The realisation she would never see anyone she truly cared for again, and if she did, they wouldn't remember her. There would be no more Harry and Ron, no more Golden Trio or whatever the masses chose to call them, and there would be no more Mum and Dad, even if her parents had been long gone already, hidden away somewhere in Australia for their own protection.

Even if she tried, which she vehemently struggled to do, she wouldn't have been able to hold back the long-awaited tears rolling mournfully down her cheeks. She pushed the tray with her half-eaten dinner away, unable to keep it steady and no longer hungry.

Just this once she would allow herself to let go and cry.

* * *

"Oi! Stop stealing my food you tosser. Get your own chicken wings." James slapped Sirius' hand away rather forcefully, which made him drop the roast chicken on the table.

"It's too far away, it's easier to just nick yours." Sirius mumbled in between bites and chews, never ceasing his constant intake of food.

"If we didn't know you, one would be inclined to think you were never fed properly." Remus said, cocking an eyebrow arrogantly and looked amused at his greedy friend. "Even Peter has the decency to not shove everything down." Remus continued, entertained by the sight before him.

"Hey!" Peter huffed insulted, but quickly turned his attention back to his food, when he realised they paid him no mind.

"Stuff it, Moony. Can't you see I'm eating?" Sirius didn't bother to look at Remus, instead continuing to eat like a savage.

"Clearly." Remus snorted and raised his goblet to his lips, gulping down ice-cold pumpkin juice.

"But he _is_ right, you know. You do have rather disgusting eating habits." Lily frowned, and looked to her boyfriend seated beside Sirius. "Now that I think about, so do you, James."

"Don't drag me into it!" James spluttered insulted, as he refilled his plate for the third time that night. It was close to dessert and the boys had to hurry if they wanted more of the food present.

"Boys." Lily shook her head disapprovingly and turned her attention back to her previous discussion with Alice and Mary.

"James, your girlfriend is annoying." Sirius nudged James with his elbow and gave him a shrewd smirk.

"Those who have none don't get to have an opinion." James nudged him back a tad more rough than the one Sirius had administered, and looked haughtily at his best friend, for once being the one with a girlfriend, even if Sirius' never lasted more than a week or so.

"Says who?" He quirked an eyebrow challenging.

"Says I, the King of Gryffindor Tower, Quidditch Captain and devilishly handsome Head Boy." He boasted arrogantly, but did so in jest. Remus and Peter could be heard snorting into their recently appeared dessert, while Lily opted for ignoring her idiot boyfriend, but it was clear she heard him by the slight twitch of red lips.

"Think you have gone a bit soft in the head over the summer? Taken one too many Bludgers to the head perhaps?" Sirius suggested with a grin.

James was just about to make a scathingly smart retort, but was halted in his speech, when Dumbledore interrupted the Welcoming Feast to make his yearly announcements.

"The very best of evenings to you! I hope you have all had a pleasant summer, new as well as old students, and have managed to replenish your energy for a whole new year of wonderful magical education."

"_Wonderful_ he says." Sirius snorted, but was immediately hushed by a glaring Remus and Lily, to which he held up his hands in obvious defeat.

"I will once again remind you that the forbidden forest is strictly forbidden to enter, _no exceptions_, and that curfew should be respected and upheld." He shot the marauders a knowing look.

"Furthermore, this year Hogwarts welcome a new seventh year student, but I'm afraid I will have to rob you of her sorting, as it has already been done in private, and it is an honour to announce that Gryffindor house has acquired a fine addition this year." Students started mumbling frantically amongst each other, countless craning their necks towards the Gryffindor table trying to locate the new student, but finding no unfamiliar faces except the first years recently sorted.

Dumbledore cleared his throat, once again gathering their attention. "She is currently resting in the Hospital Wing and will attend classes first thing in the morning, which is why you won't find her present at the Gryffindor table, if you were wondering." His eyes twinkled knowingly, amused by his curious students. "I hope you will give Hermione Edwards a very warm welcome. She has recently lost her parents, and if she does not wish to disclose any personal details or information, I ask of you that you respect her wishes. I will bid you a good night now, and moreover; a good school year." He looked over the rims of his spectacles and gave them a pointed look, before smilingly sitting down in his high-backed chair and continuing his conversation with Minerva McGonagall and Filius Flitwick.

"Hey Prongs." Sirius poked James on his cheek annoyingly, impatiently waiting for a response.

"What now, you git?" He answered, while he tried to fend off his maddening best friend, but his attempt appeared to be in vain.

"You think the new girl is the one we saw in Diagon Alley?" He asked contemplatively, and stopped his incessant poking, when James glared warningly at him.

"Maybe. Could be. Most likely is." He answered, not really caring, corrected his glasses and put them back into their rightful place, after Sirius had stopped annoying him.

"How eloquently put, my dear Prongsie." Sirius snorted amused.

"You know it. Now be a good little jester and bow down to the almighty, all-knowing King of Gryffindor."

* * *

The 2nd of September was a day Hermione had both longed for and dreaded immensely. She was caught between the overwhelming need and intense want to study, and the fear of meeting everyone she had no wish to meet yet, if ever.

The fear she felt was devastatingly overwhelming. Hermione had been frightened almost ever since arriving at Hogwarts, ever since her first year really, and she had never dared to show it before; Harry and Ron were the only ones who had guessed what a desperate bluff her bossy know-it-all attitude had been, and still could be at times. She had never been truly prepared for the wizarding world, and nothing could have prepared her for this.

She swallowed nervously before reminding herself that she was a Gryffindor, courage and all that jazz, then squared her shoulders defiantly and pushed open the heavy door leading to the Great Hall, which had yet to be fully opened for the day.

Inside she found very few students present, the most located at Ravenclaw and Slytherin table, then Hufflepuff and lastly Gryffindor. It seemed the sleeping habits of the different houses hadn't changed much over the course of twenty years, she mused humorously. She moved quickly and as inconspicuously as possible during the circumstances, but people still noticed her. She strode purposefully over to the Gryffindor table, never wavering or gave any kind of indication that she didn't belong, and sat down next to a redhead.

She might as well get it over with right away. And redheads did hold a sense of familiarity.

"Good morning." She offered politely, and had to bite back a gasp, when the redheaded girl turned to look her in the eyes.

Green eyes. _Harry's eyes_.

"Good morning." She exclaimed brightly. "You must be Hermione Edwards! I'm Lily Evans, Head Girl, and this," She gestured to the boy sitting right across from her, "Is Remus Lupin." Remus nodded a greeting, still sleepy by the looks of it.

"Nice to meet you, Lily. You too, Remus." It was like a hard blow to her stomach to see these two people so early in the morning. She really tried to smile back, but wondered if she managed properly. It was all so surreal. She was looking at, _speaking to_, Harry's dead mother, well; she hadn't technically died yet, but oh bloody buggering hell. This was confusing. And then there was Remus, _Professor Lupin_, sitting right across the table.

_Note to one self; don't address your former, now adolescent, professor as professor. _

That was bound to earn her a few odd looks and a bunch of questions.

"You too, Hermione. Are you feeling alright? Professor Dumbledore mentioned you were resting in the Hospital Wing yesterday." She gave Hermione a concerned once-over, looking for any signs of illness or the like.

"I'm fine, Madam Pomfrey has a tendency to overreact and fuss. Just had a minor accident before arriving, that's all." She said wryly, but then gave Lily a small smile. Remus, she noted, had not said a thing yet, but had observed the exchange with great interest, or as much as he could in his sleepy state.

"I know, she can be a right fright when the mood strikes her." Lily said knowingly.

"Tell me about it." Hermione snorted, and Remus managed to let out a mix of a chuckle, laugh and snort, seemingly unable to decide on which, because apparently he knew the nurse quite well. Hermione looked oddly at him for a second, but ceased when Lily asked her something.

"I'm sorry what? I was in a bit of a daze." She said apologetically.

"That's alright. I just asked which classes you have?" Hermione noted that she didn't look offended by her spacing out, but looked genuinely curious as to what her answer might be.

"Oh. I'm taking Advanced Defence Against The Dark Arts, Advanced Potions, Advanced Transfiguration, Advanced Charms, Advanced Arithmancy, Advanced Ancient Runes, Herbology, Care of Magical Creatures, Astronomy and History of Magic." She said, a little out of breath from the long list of classes.

Lily blinked in surprise and so did Remus, as they had both halted their intake of breakfast; clearly they had not expected so many classes.

"Wow. That's one more than me, and two more than Remus. And we are considered the nerdy ones." She said with a slight grin, still a bit flabbergasted by the unnatural amount of classes.

"Impressive." Remus eyed her fascinated. "Seems like we have yet another academic amongst us Gryffindors. At this rate we might actually beat Ravenclaw at their own game." He grinned at her, and handed her the box of Cheeri Owls he had been hogging selfishly since her arrival.

"They better watch out then. I don't plan on letting anyone best me." She grinned back, while pouring fresh milk over her cereal. "Not even you fellow Gryffindors."

"Great! It might actually be nice with some serious competition for once." Lily said excitedly, and Remus looked amused at her reaction, and Hermione nearly dropped her spoon at the redhead's sudden exclamation.

"Easy there Lily, you might actually scare her away with that awfully good mood."

"Pfft." She snorted into her tea, "Oh, good morning, Alice, Mary. I trust you slept well?" Two girls had just arrived and both gingerly sat down next to Remus on his right side.

"Of course." They both said, and giggled at each when they realised both had spoken at the same time.

"Oh! You must be Hermione. How rude of us, forgetting proper introductions and all. My name is Alice Summer and this lovely gal beside me is Mary Macdonald." The short, pixie-like girl said cheerfully.

This, she realised with a startling clarity, was Neville's mother, the woman who had been tortured for Merlin knows how long by Bellatrix Lestrange. And here she was, completely sane. And young.

She vaguely recognised her from the old Order picture, as the similarities between her and Neville were easy to miss, and she wondered for a brief moment if he had taken after his father instead. Mary looked a bit like Alice, just as short and same mousy hair-colour, but unlike Alice's bob she had long straight hair adorned by a bright red hairband holding her long bangs into place. She was also someone Hermione knew very little about, if anything at all, as she couldn't recall hearing her name anywhere before, but she still seemed vaguely familiar.

"Nice to meet you both." She felt like a broken record, but outwardly smiled as pleasantly as she could possibly muster, although whatever smile she had managed died off quickly, when two familiar boys joined their little group for breakfast.

Fate was cruel.

Fate needed a good arse-kick.

If she thought it was bad seeing Lily and Remus, then this was ten times worse. At least.

"Look, Prongs, I was right." Sirius propped down next to Remus in the empty seat, hair still partially wet from his morning shower. "Morning Remus, Evans." He added.

"You didn't seem so sure last night." James quirked an eyebrow at his best friend, and slid into the seat next to his girlfriend, giving her a quick peck on her cheek.

"Oi, New Girl. No crutches this time?" Sirius joked in greeting, and Hermione was fighting the urge to panic hysterically, and the seemingly safe confines of the Hospital Wing had never been so appealing before, hovering nurse or not. "I'm Sirius by the way." He said offhanded.

Then his words seemed to register.

"Crutches?" She looked baffled at him.

"Yes, in Diagon Alley, we saw you with McGoggles outside Flourish and Blotts. I'm James Potter by the way, just in case you were wondering. The extraordinarily fantastic, one and only boyfriend of the beautiful Lily Evans, and Head Boy of course." James shot in, reaching for the box of Pixie Puffs.

"Oh. That." She breathed confused.

"Yes that." Sirius said in between bites, and Lily looked inquiringly at Hermione, as per usual ignoring her moronic boyfriend and his sidekick best friend. Mary and Alice had turned their attention to whatever gossipy details and facts they were whispering about, clearly lost in their own little world of girly wonders, and Remus appeared to be struggling with something in his bag.

"I sort of took a nasty fall before coming here." _Falling through time you mean, but it was nasty alright_. "The bones in my leg shattered, so I had to wait for Madam Pomfrey to give me Skele-Gro. Hence the crutches." She explained warily.

"I thought you said it was only a minor accident." Lily said suspiciously.

"With my luck that was a minor accident." She said indignantly, snorting as she thought how a simple fall was the lesser evil of everything that had happened to her so far. Only it wasn't really a simple fall, but they needn't know that. Ever.

"Guys, where is Peter?" Remus frowned, and looked searchingly around for their friend, when it occurred to him that he hadn't seen him yet. "Don't tell me he's still in the bathroom?" He looked incredulous at the two boys, almost scolding, and they had the decency to look guilty at the inquiry.

Hermione froze in her seat, when Remus brought up the one person Hermione would do anything not to meet, because if she did, she couldn't promise he would come out of it completely unscathed.

She was still undecided as to what she was going to do about him, and she honestly hadn't wanted to think of it, even if she knew it was a necessary evil. As she saw it, she had two options. One, ignore him for a while and settle in properly, then kill him and make it look like an accident. And two, befriend him to the best of her abilities and make sure he didn't turn bad. Both options had flaws, especially the first, as Dumbledore would likely find out, and she had a feeling he wouldn't approve. The second option on the other hand, while it was something she was likely to do, she wasn't sure she could stomach it.

"It's not our fault, Moony, so stop looking like you are ready to breathe fire. He knows we always shower in the mornings. Yet he still waits until after we are done, he could just get up earlier, you know." James explained, trying to appease Remus' blaming glare.

"Exactly." Sirius added.

"Or you could stop locking him out and share the bloody bathroom." Remus deadpanned and watched James squirm uncomfortably in his seat, Sirius it seemed, didn't appear to be affected.

Now that was interesting, Hermione thought. Wasn't he supposed to be their friend?

"Peter?" She asked curiously, amazingly keeping the hatred out of her voice.

"Yes, Peter Pettigrew. Us seventh year Gryffindors only have four boys, and these nitwits tends to be a little hard on Peter." Lily explained gently, and shot the boys a disapproving glare for good measure.

"He mostly just tags along." Sirius shrugged uncaringly.

"Sirius!" Remus scolded, "He's our friend." But Hermione could see both Sirius and James weren't so sure about that. For a split-second she actually felt bad for Peter, but violently shrugged off the offending thought.

Lily nudged her boyfriend inconspicuously, "Here he comes, so be nice." She muttered warningly under her breath.

"Morning guys. You could have waited, you know." He directed the last bit at Sirius and James, and Hermione instantly felt bad. He didn't look the same, as when she had last seen him, his watery blue eyes were still very much the same, but he wasn't nearly as old and fat and disgusting. He looked normal. A bit chubby perhaps, but overall like a normal boy. No rodent-like tendencies. So far.

"Didn't want to miss out on breakfast." Sirius said, as he started on his second bowl of cereal.

"Oh, right." Then he noticed Hermione. "Hermione, right?" He looked surprised to see her, and she merely nodded in return. She didn't want to risk saying anything to him, afraid she would get a bout of verbal diarrhoea.

The table settled into an easy mood, the boys kept jibing at each other, Peter and Remus excluded, and the two gossiping girls did what they did best, which was to gossip. Lily mainly spoke to Remus, eagerly trying to get Hermione to join their conversation, but Hermione refused to participate. She was once again experiencing the pain of an emotional overload.

That and _he_ was acting strange.

She didn't know why, but he kept looking at her, shooting her discreet little glances no one else seemed to notice. No one but her. It was bad enough she could feel the curious stares from everyone in Great Hall.

She didn't want anyone looking at her. She paused.

She didn't want _him_ looking at her. Him, scum of the earth, the biggest lowlife to ever exist.

Peter Pettigrew.

How the fuck did he end up in Gryffindor? The house of bravery, courage and chivalry? How?

She had the urge to run back to the Hospital Wing and empty the contents of her stomach, but had a feeling Madam Pomfrey wouldn't appreciate that very much. Still, the idea was oh so tempting.

Running back to the Prefect's Bathroom had never been so appealing before either, she thought, as she fought down the urge to jump in a shower. Just the fact that she knew he was looking at her, it made her feel dirtier than she had ever physically been.

Disgusting. There was no other word for it.

The urge to cry came back with a vengeance too, but she couldn't allow herself to do that, especially not in the middle of breakfast on her very first day, and in the Great Hall where everyone could see her.

She had vowed that she wouldn't cry anymore.

She had shed her tears, mourned her loved ones, as much as was allowed, and now it was time to act, and therefore silly feelings of resentment and hatred couldn't come in the way.

Tears would get her nowhere, in front of a Death Eater it wouldn't even get her sympathy; tears were overrated.

Standing up suddenly, muttering a feeble half-arsed excuse, she left the Great Hall faster than Lily and the girls could follow her.

* * *

"That was quite an exit you made back there." She looked to find Sirius prop down beside her, wondering why he chose the seat next to her, but made no comment.

"I was a bit overwhelmed." And truly she was.

"Makes sense, I suppose." He shrugged nonchalantly, but still eyed her a bit sceptically. There was something about her that intrigued him, he just couldn't point out what exactly. Maybe the frizzy mob she called hair?

No, that wasn't it.

He gave her a once over as discreetly as possible. She wasn't anything special to look at; sure she had a pretty face, which was even prettier up close than first assumed, beautiful even. But she was unbelievably skinny, like she hadn't eaten properly for a while now, and her erratic brown curls were in a league of their own with that frizz. In short, she was nothing like his usual type.

He honestly couldn't say what it was about her that drew him to her, but something did. Maybe it was curiosity, or the fact that she was new, but something told him that wasn't it.

He lightly shook his head, as if to rid himself of such strange thoughts. People had pretty much settled already, and he could see James shoot him a suggestive smile from where he sat beside Remus, and Peter, he noted unconcerned, was seated by himself down back. Then McGonagall stalked in, casting a quick look to Hermione and worriedly eyed Sirius sitting so close to her.

She did, however, not have time for stalling, as class was starting.

Transfiguration was actually one of the few classes he did enjoy, along with Defence Against The Dark Arts and Astronomy.

"Oh shoot." She muttered under her breath, but Sirius heard her perfectly.

"What's wrong?" He asked, looking intently at her.

"I forgot my case with quills and ink back in the Hospital Wing." She frowned, annoyed.

"Want to borrow mine? I have a spare in my bag." He offered.

"Thank you. That would be lovely." She considered him for a moment, truly looking at him, as if seeing him for the first time. She had avoided looking too much at James and Sirius, because she was afraid to break down crying due to familiarity, but found that Sirius looked nothing like the man she had known. He was handsome. Unbelievably so. Shaggy black locks with a slight curl at the end, striking grey eyes, and what she deemed to be a very nice body.

_Perhaps Quidditch really was good for something after all_, she mused.

He exuded an aura of arrogance, but it suited him just fine, and it didn't make him unapproachable, it merely added to his undeniable charm. Also, this Sirius was not marred by a twelve-year stay in Azkaban.

_And he never would be._

He handed her his own quill and reached into his back for a new one, then placed the ink bottle in the middle of their shared table, so they could share the ink. She studied the quill he had given her, a bit baffled by the red-feathered quill in her hands.

"That's a phoenix-feather quill, you know, are you sure you want to lend it to me?" She looked questioningly at him, and then looked down at the beautiful quill in her hand.

"Must have cost a pretty penny too." She added distantly, and silently marvelled at the beauty of such a rarely seen item.

He shrugged uncaringly, apparently that didn't mean anything to him at all, phoenix-feather quill or not.

"Okay, thank you then." She smiled satisfied, looking at the striking red feather held between her fingers, and entirely missed the odd look Sirius gave her.

She turned her attention back to the lesson, eagerly jutting down notes like she had never done anything else in her life, and completely neglected to see a gorgeous blonde a few seats behind them, frown at the quill in Hermione's small hands.

* * *

"James! I swear if I hear you have started another betting pool on the fate of this year's poor Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, I will hex you into the next century! It is both tasteless and tacky, and if you think I'm going to stand idly by, then you have another thing coming!" Lily scolded angrily, still astounded by their gall. "That goes for all of you." She narrowed her eyes warningly, but knew within herself that the warning probably fell on deaf ears, yet she couldn't let the obvious comments slide by unnoticed.

"Come on, Evans. Lighten up and don't be such a killjoy." Sirius tried the puppy-eyes look, but as always Lily didn't fall for it.

"No." She stated firmly, crossing her arms defiantly.

James sighed before answering his girlfriend, "Okay then, I promise _I_ won't start this year's betting pool." He promised morosely, but his eyes twinkled mischievously, something Sirius had already noticed.

Lily was about to let him off the hook, when Hermione interrupted. "But that doesn't mean any of the others won't."

If looks could kill she would have been six feet under already.

_Well, they could get in line_, she thought amused.

"James!" Her nostrils flared in anger, and Hermione could see she was ten seconds away from storming out of the Great Hall, lunch and proper manners be damned.

"That was evil, New Girl." Sirius pouted, and she shrugged with an amused grin.

So far it had been a good day, even if she had been reluctant at first, and who in their right mind wouldn't? People had been nice to her, and even though she had been this close to murdering Peter Pettigrew, classes had made up for that little miscalculation. She had won a mountain of points for Gryffindor, which had in turn earned her brownie points with her fellow Gryffindors. It was amazing to be back at Hogwarts, to walk the familiar corridors and eat delicious food in the Great Hall. But the absolute best part was the lessons; she couldn't describe how much she had missed it.

If only she didn't have to attend Potions in an hour, she wasn't sure if she could stomach seeing Severus Snape and Peter Pettigrew in the same day. It was bad enough she had recognised a few future Death Eaters already. Her wand had itched terribly at the time.

Feeling a sudden bout of nausea after thinking of Death Eaters, present and future ones, she felt her hunger disappear, but continued to eat anyway, forcing the dreary bites down.

She wanted to hit someone, as she looked down the long table. Didn't they know how lucky they were? To have this much food available, and yet they had leftovers in abundance filling their plates. They should be ashamed of themselves.

She felt a shiver run down her spine, and looked around frantically, all feelings of resentment died as suspicion took over. It felt like someone was watching her, but found none in her desperate search, besides the obvious gawking students who hadn't seen her at breakfast.

"You okay, Hermione?" Lily looked concerned at her, having calmed down considerably after her heated discussion with James, or rather her ranting.

"Yes, just not used to all that attention." _What a lie_. But this was different. Lily nodded in understanding and started a story of how horrible Professor Slughorn was to cheer her up.

She could only nod and smile in return, offering the occasional laugh where it was due, mixed between listening to the story and thinking of the dreadful class to come.

Again she failed to notice the beautiful blonde, seated a bit further down the table, frown at her.

* * *

"Where do you think you are going?" Marlene McKinnon arrogantly questioned Hermione, when she got up from her chair, obviously to retire for the night. Marlene McKinnon and Dorcas Meadowes had pretty much ignored her all day, ever since dinner in fact, when Lily had introduced them and they had most rudely shrugged her off. She hadn't cared; she was used to those stuck-up types, and they were bound to be there, despite what year she found herself in.

"To the dorms. Something wrong with that?" She sighed, not in the mood to deal with the seemingly hostile blonde. She had no idea what she had done to tick her off.

"You're not going to the dorms."

"And why not?" She began to feel her anger well up; she was tired and had enough of these stupid Gryffindors for one day. All she wanted was to collapse on her bed and sleep until it was required of her to get up again.

"Because as a Gryffindor you have to prove yourself worthy of being here, so until you have completed the initiation, you'll have to sleep down here, or wherever." Marlene smirked, and for a minute Hermione just blankly stared at the two offensive girls. This was not something she had expected of Gryffindors. She looked over at Lily, who in turn looked just as annoyed as Hermione. Apparently Lily didn't have anything to do with this.

Somehow that made Hermione feel extremely glad.

"You cannot be serious!" Hermione was baffled.

"No, love, that would be me." Sirius joked from where he was standing with James a few feet away, obviously having overheard their discussion. Hermione ignored him plain and simple, not in any mood to deal with him at the moment.

He frowned and turned his attention back to James, not used to getting ignored. She could distantly hear James laughing at his best friend, when he, apparently, began to pout, but paid them no mind.

"We are quite serious, we all took the test in our sixth year." Dorcas said.

"Don't worry, if you're a real Gryffindor you'll pass." Marlene gave her a smug look.

"Maybe we should let Hermione wait until she settles down properly." Lily, who had previously been quiet, tried to negotiate.

"No Lils, she's getting her task tonight." Marlene dictated, and Lily looked annoyed, but said nothing further and snuck a glance at the unsuspecting first and second years in the room. She settled on giving Marlene a scathing glare instead that promised a later confrontation, in private.

"What kind of task?" Hermione asked warily. She might as well get it done, as she had no energy left in her to fight, and to top it she felt that terrible headache about to return.

"Oh, nothing bad of course. It's the same as all sixth year girl's have to do at the beginning of the year, but since you skipped that year, you'll just have to do it now." Dorcas explained, obviously backing up Marlene in this matter.

"So what is it then?" Her patience was running out faster than she could name the twelve uses of dragon blood.

"You have to snog a boy from our year, steal his tie and return it to us, simple as that really. We have quite the collection. Oh! And you have to draw a house of course, you know, so it's settled which group of boys you can choose from." Marlene smirked. If looks could kill, Marlene would definitely be six feet under, more in fact, but before Hermione could say anything, Alice came bouncing down the stairs with a box in her hands.

"Just remember, we have all done this, so it's only fair you do it too." Marlene continued, hastily grabbing the box from Alice's hands, and urged Hermione to draw a piece of paper from the little black box.

"This is ridiculous." Hermione said, when she reached down and pulled out a small neatly folded piece of paper.

What does it say?" Alice inquired curiously.

"Hufflepuff." Hermione glared at Marlene. She _really_ didn't like her, and something told her the feeling was mutual.

"Then you know what you have to do, Sunshine. And do keep in mind that the challenge, or whatever you wish to call it, is enchanted so we will know if you lie." Hermione highly doubted that last part, but then again, it wouldn't do to underestimate these girls. If they were anything like the Gryffindor boys in terms of ability, she would most definitely have to watch her back. Especially where Marlene and Dorcas were concerned, if the stories were anything to go by.

Instead of responding, Hermione chose to leave the Gryffindor tower, no destination in mind. Even though it was close to curfew she figured she needed to calm down and that required being as far away from the Gryffindor common room as possible. She turned abruptly on her heel and swung her book bag over her shoulder and stalked out of the common room, challenge in hand.

"I think we pissed her off." Dorcas grinned. How fun new people were.

"Obviously." Lily muttered, and turned to leave. She couldn't believe the nerve of her housemates. She had expected it of the Marauders, but Marlene and Dorcas? Never. She wondered what set those two off, as they normally didn't behave so despicably towards fellow Gryffindors. Well, Dorcas didn't, Marlene was another story.

Lily had grudgingly held her tongue, afraid she might have hexed someone if she had started to argue, as she knew her own temper quite well. No, Marlene would get an earful later. This behaviour was simply not acceptable.

"Wait up Lily!" Alice yelled as she ran after her in hot pursuit.

"Think we might have made Lils angry too?" Marlene said, while eyeing the retreating back of a stomping Lily.

"Naturally, but anything untoward pisses her off these days, I blame the boys. And the Head Girl title." Dorcas rolled her eyes, dissatisfied with their redheaded friend.

"She used to be so much fun, if I remember correctly, I believe it was her own bloody idea with the initiation in the first place, although she was pissed beyond recognition at the time. I swear she should never have that much firewhiskey, _ever_, again." Marlene smiled at the memory.

"Oh, well. Never mind, let's just see how this new girl will fend for herself." Dorcas sighed, not really in the mood for Marlene's problem with Lily after she received the Head Girl title.

"She seems a bit stuck up to me, a bit shy too. Wouldn't surprise me if she breaks down crying one of these days." Marlene mused, obviously enjoying thoughts of Hermione crying.

"Don't know what you have against her, but I would advise you to be cautious around her. We don't know anything about her, just remember that Marls." Dorcas warned her friend wisely. "And who knows, she might surprise us." She added as an afterthought.

"Ugh, I hate it when you get all wise and smart-ass on me." Marlene said as she fumbled with the black box from earlier.

"Come on, Marls, let's return the box to the new sixth years, I heard they were going to play Saturday night." Dorcas smirked as she pulled Marlene towards the girl's sixth year dorms.

"Awesome."

"The word you are looking for, Marls, is _legacy_."

_TBC…_

* * *

AN: Yes, Marlene is a first-class bitch, it's quite intentional, and yes those types do come around every now and then. I do hope you like the chapter, despite the lovely Miss McKinnon (And there will be an explanation of sorts in the next chapter), but not to worry, our dear Hermione might see this as a wakeup call. Merlin knows she needs it.

Lily was a bit disappointing, but she shall redeem herself… at some point anyway. I will say this, though; she will play a vital role in Hermione's stay at Hogwarts in the 70s. Her fiery personality will come forth sooner or later! And I shall spoil you no more...

Next chapter will be a bit more interesting, I think. Entering Hufflepuff Darlings! Unf! And of course a vengeful Hermione (when is that not amusing?).

And sorry for the wait, but I ran into a few problems along the way… My writing habits are quite frankly insane, you see. I hardly know where to start and where to end, but I suppose it reflects on my person. But! On the other hand I can reveal that chapter 4 is almost done, so it should be up in a few days. Not sure when though.

And thank you so much for all the lovely reviews, favourites and alerts! They're awesome! You are awesome! It warms my heart and gets me writing. Just saying.

Cheers, or whatever those amazing Brits say.

Ps. Anyone with a need to beta hellishly long chapters? Pretty please? I assure there is a cherry on top. Or something.


	5. Chapter Four: Alienation

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Nothing, I tell you! Enough with the melodramatics… and on with the story.

* * *

**CHAPTER FOUR: Alienation**

* * *

_"Perhaps I know best why it is man alone who laughs: he alone suffers so deeply that he had to invent laughter."_

~ Friedrich Nietzsche

* * *

Hermione was furious, livid in fact. She couldn't remember the last time her anger had reached this particular level of pure, _murderous_, uncontrollable rage with a speck of hatred not far behind. It was disturbing how she had found herself acting back in the common room.

_Disgusting_.

She had the urge to pin the guilt on someone else, accuse someone, _anyone_, of sedating her to the point of acting like a demure little wallflower.

Hermione Granger was anything but placid and timid. For Merlin's sake, she had the temper of a full-grown Weasley _if _pushed enough and she was certainly vindictive when she felt like it. Rita Skeeter, Dolores Umbridge and Marietta Edgecombe could attest to that. Heck, even Draco could attest to it.

She could pack a hefty punch that put boys to shame.

Now that got her mind thinking. Perhaps it was time to scheme a little, dust off her creativity and un-shelve it from the emotional storeroom it was hidden away in. It had been ages since she had last felt this vengeful, which she hadn't since her tiresome squabbles with Ron.

She felt a pang of hurt shoot through her already aching heart. She felt her chest constrict in the most painful way possible, and instantly regretted thinking of the dim-witted redhead – even if it was only for a second.

She loved him - not in the brotherly, purely platonic way she would always love Harry, but in the sense a woman loved a man. They had been running in circles around each other forever only to be torn apart at the end. And it was all before they got around to figuring everything out, figuring anything out for that matter.

Poor Harry, who had been caught right in the middle of such disturbing turbulence. She did not envy him for that. When he wasn't fending off possible fights between Draco and Ron, he was smothered by unresolved sexual tension between Ron and her which was probably nothing more than confusion about how they should act around one another. Something of which she wasn't quite sure herself, if she was completely honest.

The world really was dead set against Harry, and she briefly wondered who he had managed to insult in a previous life to end up having the whole world have it in for him. That seemed a wholly unfair fight to her.

_Poor, poor Harry._

She shook her head in irritation. _Poor, poor her at the moment. _Harry didn't exist yet, sadly.

What could she do in return?

What did she know about Marlene McKinnon that could possibly aid her in her revenge?

_Nothing. That's what._

She would have to do some research first then. She wasn't doing this half-arsed by any means that was for sure!

Revenge.

It was such an odd thing really, but necessary in this world.

Revenge had a bittersweet taste – or so they said. It was funny how that saying never seemed to apply to her; she had thoroughly enjoyed blackmailing Skeeter, feeding Umbridge to the centaurs of the forbidden forest, and definitely felt proud of her jinx handiwork in Edgecombe's case. She even felt smug about the slap Draco earned himself back in third year. Her actions were all justified and there was absolutely nothing bitter about it.

Now she sought retribution for her humiliation back in the common room, and she wouldn't stop until she achieved exactly that. Revenge was, after all, a dish best served cold.

But it would at the very least require access to her dorm, at some point anyway, for now she would focus on completing her forced task._ Or perhaps not. _Just thinking about it made her seethe.

But first of all, where to go? Curfew was in an hour, or less, she had no way of knowing for certain and wasn't sure she cared at all. So far she had been walking around aimlessly, a definitive destination not thought of, when she in a fit of suppressed rage decided to wander off on her own. She stopped in her tracks and questioningly looked around, genuinely curious as to where exactly her feet had taken her. She found, unsurprisingly as some might say, that she was standing only metres away from the entrance to the library, her previous sanctuary at Hogwarts.

Old habits die hard.

* * *

Ten minutes later she found herself sitting, cut off from everyone, and hiding away in a small alcove in the far corner of the dusty old library still fuming, but considerably calmer. Enough to refrain from hexing innocent bystanders, or any unlucky souls who would be unfortunate enough to cross her path later on.

She was lucky she had her book bag with her; she had taken to keeping everything on her person after her time on the run and naturally her beaded little bag of wonders was stuffed down the worn leather bag, if ever needed it.

It was a very convenient habit, she thought, _to always be prepared and ready for unplanned situations_. In fact, she didn't even _need _to have access to the girls' dorms; she could sleep elsewhere, because she had just about every one of her possessions on her being.

Easy, practical and downright genius!

She pulled her seventh year _Advanced Arithmancy Studies _book up from her bag and figured she might as well as study ahead. She loved Arithmancy with a passion. It made sense to her; it was logical and slightly challenging, and when had Hermione Granger not appreciated a good challenge? (Inside the realms of schoolwork, of course.)

This year's curriculum looked particularly promising and she could hardly wait to delve into the difficult subject. Normally she would have read all of her schoolbooks by now, _twice_, but since she hadn't had her books for all that long, it had not been possible to accomplish. _Damn! _It really messed up her modus operandi. So now, she was stuck diligently studying everyday like everybody else.

_Damn. Damn. Damn._

And she was bloody well cursing too. Again.

And naturally, she just had to go and pick ten N.E.W.T-level courses a lot of which were Advanced too.

Ten! As far as she knew not even the Ravenclaws had chosen that many. In fact, the only one who came even remotely close to her ten, was Lily Evans who had an ambitious nine. Perhaps she had been too hasty in her decision, but this was her last chance to study and she would damn well use it, and use it well! _Sleep and social skills be damned._

Not that she slept much anyway, what with all of the _lovely _nightmares plaguing her, not to mention her obvious lack of social skills.

_Maybe choosing ten subjects would turn out all right after all._

But it still bothered her to be so far behind, by her standards.

She ran both her hands, frustrated, through her bushy mane and gripped it tightly as she slumped forward on the table- the book pushed none too gently to the side. At least her hair had regained some of its former glory, if you could call it that. She had come to miss the frizz, even if she cursed it many times a day. It was probably more of a habit than anything else. It hadn't been more than a few days of drinking the horrible concoction of vitamins from Madam Pomfrey, before the frizz and the untameable curls had come back with a vengeance.

At least _that_ was back to normal.

Her attention snapped towards the bookcase closest to her, when she heard the eager clicking sounds of footsteps coming closer.

_What now? _She thought, irritated.

Emerging from the maze of books was a dark-haired Hufflepuff with a blond Hufflepuff, both handsome guys. One a picture-perfect prefect and the other appeared messy and unkempt. They both halted when they noticed her quietly observing them. She could see how first confusion, then realisation played across their features. Then they seemed to remember proper etiquette.

"Hello there, you must be the transfer student everyone is talking about." The dark-haired guy said cheerfully. "Hermione, right?" Green eyes peered down at her with interest.

"That would be me, yes. And you are?" She quirked a brow at the two young men.

"How rude of us, I am Corbin Macmillan and this is Benjy Fenwick." The blond guy introducing himself as Corbin said, and in his introduction gestured to the attractive brown-haired guy beside him. To say she was surprised would be an understatement.

Corbin Macmillan looked nothing like the Ernie Macmillan she remembered from her Hogwarts days, whom she guessed might be his future son or at least a relative of sorts. He wasn't sturdy like Ernie, but instead had a lean figure, though the familiar blond hair connected them. He had an air of pompousness about him not unlike Ernie; she chalked it up to being of pureblood descent. But it was nowhere near as arrogant as the attitude Malfoy had pulled off in his younger days.

Her gaze shifted and landed on Benjy, the young man who had fought valiantly for the Order of the Phoenix in the First Wizarding War, and according to Alastor Moody, got blown to pieces by Death Eaters. They had only recovered bits of him as far as she remembered. If this wasn't a wakeup call, she didn't know what was.

_Annoying_, how she found herself with a lot of those lately.

They were both quite attractive, she mused silently. Corbin, with his dirty blond hair and almost regal posture, was lean but with obvious well-defined muscles and was clad immaculately in an orderly school uniform. His robes draped were over his right arm and a well-worn leather book bag slung over his left shoulder. Then, there was Benjy, with his shaggy brown hair and bright green eyes. He was giving off an easy-going, friendly vibe, with his bubbly devil-may-care attitude. He was in a uniform- deliberately dishevelled and in short, was the diametrical opposite of Corbin, she concluded.

And both were Hufflepuffs, their ties and house badges a dead giveaway.

"So, what brings you to the library so close to curfew on your first day no less?"

"Stuck-up Gryffindors." She muttered, annoyed, and looked down glaringly at her hands.

"Oh, well, I suppose they can come off a bit too strong sometimes. It generally takes some time to get used to." Corbin explained, almost apologetically, but managed to uphold the air of pompousness around him.

"I wasn't allowed in the girls dorm." She said with a vacant expression.

"Why ever not?" Both boys looked puzzled.

"Because according to McKinnon and Meadowes I haven't completed the Gryffindor initiation, and therefore haven't earned my right to stay in the dormitory." She answered their question with a wry grimace.

"I've heard of that! It was all over the school last year, how the girls had to snog a guy from a designated house and then rob him of his tie. Jolly good entertainment if you ask me." Benjy laughed and nudged Corbin for affirmation, who in turn gave a tight lipped smile as if to say he wasn't completely on par with Benjy's assessment.

"Not if it's your first day of school, I assure you." She muttered darkly, head turned to stare at the countless rows of shelves brimming with books and looked ready to topple over from sheer overweight. She heard, rather than saw the boys sit down at her table, their chairs scraping against the stone floor.

"I suppose not." Benjy conceded with a frown, sympathy washing over him when he observed the miserable girl in front of him. If they were to believe the Headmaster, she had just lost everyone of importance in her life. Perhaps the initiation should have been left out for the time being, if not foregone completely. He wouldn't pretend to understand Gryffindor logic, but this seemed a bit too harsh, and downright insensitive. No wonder she was hiding out in the library.

"What house did you draw?" Corbin asked curiously, blue eyes fixed on her.

"Hufflepuff, ironic as that may be." She turned her head and grinned at them, amused by the obvious overflow of Hufflepuffs currently surrounding her. Benjy grinned right back and even Corbin, in all his prim and proper glory, had to smile at the absurdity of the situation.

"Look at it this way, at least it wasn't Slytherin." Benjy interjected, and grinned when she grimaced.

"I suppose…" For a brief moment she thought about what would happen if she were to kiss a Slytherin instead, with her luck she would probably end up with someone like Snape. Yuck.

Her face morphed into a grim expression.

She did not want to go there.

Kissing future Death Eaters? Never.

"Thank Merlin it wasn't Slytherin…" She shuddered, and Benjy promptly started laughing whole-heartedly at her reaction. She was a Gryffindor alright, at least in his opinion. Granted, she hadn't been there amongst her peers for more than a day, but she seemed to have already grasped the animosity between the two rivalling houses.

"They are not all bad though." Corbin said thoughtfully, his righteousness choosing to act up. He praised himself on being fair and level headed; it wouldn't do to stereotype every single resident of Slytherin regardless of their dubious reputation and previous actions to back it up.

Benjy looked downright insulted at the comment, as if Corbin had smacked him silly for no good reason – if not a bit betrayed. Apparently there was no long lost love between him and the inhabitants of Slytherin house.

"I'm just asking. Who? Name one decent Slytherin." Benjy countered and Hermione observed them with amusement.

"Aurelia Gamp isn't too terrible." He tapped his index finger on his chin in a thoughtful manner, but Benjy was fast to shoot him down.

"Forget it. She hexed Dorcas last term, badly I might add. Goes to show her penchant for Dark Magic." Benjy told them solemnly, thinking back to how Dorcas Meadowes had spent nearly two weeks in the Hospital Wing after getting hit by a very dark curse.

"Can't say that I blame her though." Corbin muttered and then added, "What about Eris, then?"

"Blishwick?" He nodded in affirmation. "She ruined Amelia's Transfiguration project last year, remember? For entertainment value no less." Benjy reminded him harshly, he still hadn't forgotten about that. Amelia had been inconsolable after that stunt, and Amelia Bones was normally not a witch to trifle with. But she had put so much work into that one project, to see it destroyed so easily for the sole purpose of entertaining a group of sixth year Slytherins had put her in quite a state.

Corbin looked miffed and Hermione had a feeling it wasn't everyday Benjy got one up on him. Clearly, he hadn't thought it through and suffered from his hasty defence of Slytherins.

"You are right. There is not a single decent Slytherin to be found. At least not in the older years." He looked beside himself with wonder, and turned to look at Hermione with a sheepish smile. He really was rather handsome.

"As I suspected then." Hermione finalised, before an unknown boy behind her abruptly interrupted her.

"Oi Macmillan! Becky is looking for you!" A gruff voice snapped in their direction.

"What does she want now, Gudgeon?" He frowned, looking quite annoyed by the sudden interruption, obviously not in the mood to deal with this girl Becky.

"Something about prefect duties." The guy called Gudgeon shrugged, and turned to leave, apparently his job here was done. He gave a small wave of his hand to signal his leave and stalked off as fast as he came.

"That is my cue to leave." Corbin sighed heavily, vexed by having to deal with prefect duties now.

"It was nice meeting you Hermione, I hope you settle in alright even if the Gryffindors appear to be insensitive at the moment. Sadly, they aren't known for their sensitivity." He held out his hand to shake hers and she readily took it, pleased to make his acquaintance. Also, he had been one of the first friendly students to bid her welcome beside Lily's pathetic half-arsed attempts.

"It was nice meeting you too. Hopefully we will see each other around." She smiled at him.

"Are you staying here, Benjy?" He asked his dark-haired mate enviously; clearly he would rather stay and chat, than go back to their common room to deal with prefect duties. She remembered that part, even if most thought she relished her prefect duties, she honestly didn't.

"Yes." He glanced briefly at Hermione, and then turned his attention back to Corbin.

"Alright, just remember curfew. I won't stand for you losing house points on our first day back, like last year." He reminded him grudgingly.

"I get it." Benjy cut him off.

Corbin turned to leave the same way Gudgeon had come from and walked off a little stiffly not liking Becky one bit at the moment.

"Unbelievable. Not a single moment of peace." She could hear him mutter in disapproval and annoyance under his breath.

"So…" Benjy trailed off and looked imploringly at Hermione.

"So…" She looked undecided for a split-second, but made up her mind as she figured the question had to be asked at some point, "Care to tell me what McKinnon's deal is? She's been on my case all day and for all I'm worth, I can't seem to figure out why." She had wondered what that was all about. Marlene seemed to have been targeting her for no good reason at all, and as far as Hermione could recall she hadn't offended her, at least not knowingly and certainly not on purpose.

"You probably didn't do anything, she's just naturally charming that way." He laughed, but it only made Hermione look even more annoyed. "No worries though, at least you didn't catch the Marauders' attention which, by the way, is something you want to avoid at all costs. They tend to go out of their way to prank people they don't like or just feel like pranking in general." He shuddered lightly when he thought back on previous pranks, some of which were actually bullying. No one at Hogwarts wanted to be Severus Snape or Bertram Aubrey when _they_ got started.

"Although, James has calmed down considerably." He added thoughtfully.

"Just what I need…" All this commotion was really starting to give her a headache. She sighed and slumped against the table again, arms crossed, supporting her aching head.

"Don't worry. They're not all bad but I should probably advise against hooking up with Sirius; he goes through girls like Corbin goes through books." He looked thoughtful at his piece of advice, but she didn't bother looking up.

"Which I'm guessing is a lot." She muttered wearily.

"You could say that." He said with a slight grin.

"I have no intention of starting anything with anyone." She mumbled into her arms, but he heard her clearly.

"Why not?" He asked curiously and peered down at her crouching form.

Her eyes shut painfully at the memories resurfacing at the innocent question. He couldn't have known, but it still didn't make the question easier.

"I'm sorry, that's none of my business." He offered hastily, when it occurred to him that she must not want to talk about it, or have other reasons not to. Again Dumbledore's words resounded in his mind, reminding him that she had lost her family, probably more than that. These were dangerous times after all, no matter what the Prophet might state.

"It's okay. You couldn't know. It's just… I-" Her voiced cracked and her nails dug viciously into her forearms, no doubt leaving little crescent marks from her nails.

"It's alright, Hermione. You don't have to tell me anything." He looked uncomfortable, a bit restless, as he didn't know how to act.

"No it's fine… It's just-" she swallowed, hard, "I lost everyone. Everyone I ever cared for. They are gone. Just gone. Boyfriends and flirts are probably the last thing that comes to mind." She added the last part wryly, and finally rose from her slouching position on the table.

"Oh. I'm sorry." It sounded pitiful to her ears, but what else could he say?

"It's okay." No it wasn't. Nothing was okay.

"No it isn't." He surprised her by saying, and her eyes sought out his.

"I imagine nothing is _okay _right now, but I won't pretend to know what you are going through or feeling at the moment. Still, it won't do to wallow in it. And I know that sounds harsh but there's only one way to deal with this, and that's moving forward. Otherwise you won't _live_. Sure, you will breathe and everything but that's not necessarily the same thing as living." He stated and looked her calmly in the eyes, his gaze never wavering.

"I don't know what to say." She found herself saying.

"Then don't say anything, just think about what I told you. I realise it's a longwinded process, but don't resign yourself to giving up on life just yet. Life may throw you an unexpected curveball once in a while, but just remember it also throws you good things." She hadn't realised he could be so serious and it threw her off. He was right. Life had given her many great things, like magic. Like Harry and Ron. Surely life would give something in return for everything bad she had experienced?

No, probably not. She wasn't that lucky. But hope sprung eternally, didn't it?

"You are surprisingly mature for your age." She smiled and looked at him with amusement.

"If it weren't for the fact that you're a pretty lass I would take that as an insult." He snorted, but chuckled anyway.

Then it was her turn to snort, but held back any unnecessary comments. Her, pretty? Pfft.

"This is bloody weird. The whole damn situation. Why would they make such an initiation in the first place? It's degrading and downright stupid." She huffed instead.

"Gryffindors." He shook his head. "They never make much sense to the rest of us mortals."

"Are you going to do it?" He asked curiously.

"I'm not sure. There are pros and cons to both decisions. If I do it then I won't have to listen to their incessant yapping and hopefully they'll back down and leave me alone. But I would be lowering myself to that level. If I don't do it, well, I don't fancy getting on their bad side, anymore than I already am mind you."

"Quite a dilemma." He shrugged, understanding her reasons perfectly. "Well, you know where to go if you need any help with your task. I would be more than happy to help out if you decide to do it." He gave her a slight smirk and couldn't help but laugh at her when he noticed her startled expression.

She gave him a glare, not even bothering with a reply, and again he couldn't help but laugh at her.

"Alright, alright. I get it. But the offer still stands." She scowled at his cheekiness but he merely grinned at her.

"Hmm, could you perhaps help me with something?" He asked suddenly.

"What?"

"Arithmancy. I couldn't help but notice you were going to read up on it, and from what I have heard you're smarter than most of the Ravenclaws...combined." He said, and she couldn't help feeling flattered, not to mention relieved at the change of subject.

"Sure."

* * *

Her nails nervously dug into the palms of her hands and she looked down to the floor, undecided for a brief moment, then she proceeded to bite her lower lip in pure frustration.

Was she really about to do this?

She risked a glance at Benjy and made up her mind.

Yes. Yes, she was doing this. Yes, she would regret it tomorrow. Yes, she would just have to suck it up. Yes, and that was a hell-yes, Marlene was going to pay.

She was first and foremost a Gryffindor; she had to have enough nerve. That was the way of the proud Lions.

"Hey Benjy?" He looked expectantly at her and ceased his search, extracting his hands from his bag while keeping his undivided attention on her.

"I think I might just take you up on that offer." She didn't give him a chance to reply, before he could as much as bat an eyelash, she had grabbed hold of his black and yellow striped tie and yanked him closer to her. He nearly stumbled into her, but she would have none of it, as she pushed him against the sturdy table they had been studying at only moments before.

She eagerly pressed her lips against his, kissing, sucking, nipping, before he finally seemed to catch on to what she was doing, his own starting to move in sync with hers. Her hands were moving on their own accord, working swiftly on his tie knot like she had done it countless of times before, yet she had a little trouble getting the knot undone. She hadn't a clue as to where the sudden confidence sprung from, but she certainly wasn't about to question it now.

He gently sucked at her lower lip before sliding his tongue into her mouth, engaging in a battle for dominance- one she refused to let him win. One hand cupped her cheek and the other was placed protectively at her waist, holding her close as if afraid she would come to her senses any minute and bolt in desperation.

She wouldn't though. She would always stand by her decisions, good or bad or downright crazy, like now. Like this. Kissing a stranger.

_Snogging _a Hufflepuff. Snogpuffing.

How lovely.

She didn't know whether to laugh or to cry from the absurdity of it all.

Shyly she removed the tie from around his neck, gently hooking the slip of silk through her nimble fingers, and deeming her task done as she felt the silken tie rest securely in the grasp of her hand.

He seemed to understand the snogging session had come to an end by the removal of his tie, and politely stepped back, disentangling his hand from her hair, where it had wound itself tightly in the last moments of passion. At least he seemed to understand her and understand this was no more than a task she hadn't wanted to do, and therefore he didn't press her for more.

Then it seemed to hit them both; they had just snogged, in the library of all places. Her sacred place.

Awkwardness. Mortification. Embarrassment. Oh there were plenty of words to describe the rush of feelings – on both parts it seemed.

They eyed each other a bit nervously and Hermione let out a shaky breath.

"Err." He cleared his throat awkwardly. "Do you want to come back with me to Hufflepuff? Since, you obviously don't have a place to stay tonight. I'm sure the girls won't mind having you there, in fact, I think Greta will welcome you with open arms once she hears about your strife with Marlene." He was still blushing a bit and he seemed to consider what he had just said before breaking out in laughter, "Honestly, you could probably build an entire relationship on the basis of Marlene-bashing and Marlene-hating." All previous awkwardness forgotten, to which she was grateful.

"Are you sure it's okay?" She looked sceptic, but the thought of actually getting to see a bed up close was simply too much of a temptation to simply disregard.

"Sure, I don't see why not. It's not like you have anywhere else to go. Unless, of course, you would rather go back now and show them your token, then that's fine too." He gave her an all too pleased grin, satisfied with himself and his loss of tie. Snogging girls with no strings attached was clearly an enjoyable activity.

"No. No matter what I'm most definitely not going back there tonight. I need to cool down a bit, before I face the Queen Bitch and her evil minion again. I might get tempted to hex them."

"You sure that temptation is going to disappear by tomorrow morning?" He raised an eyebrow enquiringly at her, knowing full well that she would be just as pissed off tomorrow.

"No, I'm sure it won't," She muttered wryly, "But this way I won't make any mistakes, _when _I seek retribution. If I went back now I would probably end up hexing her in public. _But _if I wait a couple of days, it will happen when she least expect it."

"Remind me to never make an enemy out of you." He eyed her curiously, and she smiled back sheepishly, only then realising how calculated she had sounded.

"Well, so far, I wouldn't dream of harming you, my knight in shining armour, what with helping me complete my task _and _giving me a place to crash." She chuckled when his chest puffed up a bit.

"Glad to be of service, my lady." He gave a small bow in jest. "Now, shall we retire for the night?"

"Lead the way, good sir."

* * *

By the time they reached the Hufflepuff basement, Hermione had come to the conclusion that she quite liked Benjy. He was sweet and funny, appeared to be very laid-back, and was in all honesty a bit of a gossip, which was probably why he was so easy to get along with. The fact that he had offered her a place to sleep only added to the growing adoration for the brown-haired boy, and she felt a new friend in the making. She didn't have any particular romantic feelings for him, despite just having snogged him quite thoroughly between the old and heavy tomes of Hogwarts library.

He was definitely attractive, there was no denying it, but it was much too soon for her to even consider another guy. Ron was still etched deeply into her mind and heart, and she had no idea if he was alive or not, if he, _they_, too had ended up in the past, or if they had ceased to exist altogether.

Before she could continue her line of depressing thoughts, Benjy steered her towards the entrance, which was located in a nook on the right hand side of the kitchen corridor, concealed behind a stack of barrels.

"Are you ready?"

She nodded.

He tapped the barrel two from the bottom, middle of the second row, in the rhythm of 'Helga Hufflepuff', which made the lid eagerly swing open, exposing a passageway that led to the basement, although they had to crawl through.

"No password?" She frowned.

"No password." He stated clearly.

The basement was round, earthy and low ceilinged, and there was an instant warm and welcoming feeling flowing through her. The room was decorated with lots of yellow hangings attributed to their House, burnished copper, and very comfortable-looking overstuffed sofas and armchairs, which were naturally upholstered in yellow and black.

She spied a huge portrait of Helga Hufflepuff with a large, honey coloured, wooden mantelpiece with carvings of badgers on it.

She missed Gryffindor. Her Gryffindor, not the practically foreign place she had been earlier that evening.

"I picked up a stray." Benjy announced to the habitants of the cosy room, and mostly everyone smiled, waved or nodded politely in her direction.

"We can see that." A pair of twins laughed in good spirit.

"Be nice to her. She's had a bit of a rough day. McKinnon had her claws out." Both girls looked sympathetically at her, and Hermione got the distinct feeling that Marlene had a lot of enemies around the castle. Especially in the girls' department.

"Kitty and Scarlet Sharp." Benjy said and pointed in the twins' direction. She nodded.

"And just what do you think you were doing?" Corbin said sternly, grabbing Benjy by the back of his neck like a scolding older brother; it had not escaped his attention that his fellow housemate was sorely lacking in the tie-department.

"I leave you for five minutes and you are acting like a complete savage?" He spoke in hushed tones, as not to alert the rest of the common room, he might want to embarrass the hell out of Benjy, but he had no such wish in regards to Hermione.

"Ease up, Corbin. It was my idea, even if the dolt offered first." Hermione interrupted, speaking in an equally low tone, her brow quirked at the handling of Benjy.

Corbin sighed and let go of Benjy.

"Geez, mate." Benjy rubbed his sore neck, and Hermione couldn't help but laugh a little. How was it that these Hufflepuffs could make her smile, when her own housemates couldn't?

It wasn't long before two girls came up to greet her, curiously looking at the new girl, who had managed to lay low most of the day.

"Nice to meet you Hermione, I'm Amelia Bones, and this lovely lady beside me is Greta Catchlove." Amelia said cheerfully and with a pleasant smile.

Meeting Amelia Bones, the aunt of Susan Bones, and Greta Catchlove, the witch who wrote Charm Your Own Cheese, whom she also recalled seeing a portrait of somewhere in the castle, although that had been in the 90s. It was mindboggling to say the least, and she felt like she had just entered the twilight zone. _Again_.

"We heard from the twins that McKinnon McBitch had her claws out today. Don't worry too much about it, sweetheart. She's like that to everyone, well, except to her evil little minion." Greta said, consoling.

"She's a horrid toad." Amelia snorted.

"I noticed." Hermione said dryly.

"She's got a sense of humour Melli." Greta smiled.

"Girls! Could Hermione sleep here tonight? McKinnon tossed her out on her lovely little arse and I sort of promised her you would take care of her for tonight." Benjy interrupted and smiled sheepishly at the girls.

"Why did that smelly toad do that? And of course she can!" Amelia said, outraged.

"Gryffindor initiation." Hermione stated coldly.

"Well that settles it then!" Greta stated, and before Hermione could object, Greta and Amelia were dragging the tired Hermione towards their dorms.

"'Night Benjy!" Amelia and Greta chorused, and Benjy almost felt bad for the confused Hermione being dragged off by his forceful housemates. _Almost_.

* * *

"Now, can anyone please tell me what the hell her problem is?" Hermione huffed. She was happily standing beside a spare bed in the Hufflepuff girls' dormitory barely able to contain her happiness at seeing a bed. But first, she wanted a proper explanation; something she knew only these girls could give.

All the seventh year Hufflepuff girls looked warily at each other and considered the request.

"She suffers from chronic pain of the heart, also known as unrequited love. The side effects are quite bad, as you have no doubt discovered, there's bitchiness, jealousy...the list just goes on. I just hope it's not terminal." Amelia explained sombrely.

"That won't bode well for anyone." Greta interjected dryly.

"Oh, who might the _lucky _guy be?" She was already feeling sorry for the poor lad, and only felt the resentment for Marlene growing.

"That would be one devilishly handsome Sirius Black, one fourth of the notorious Marauders."

She really should have seen that one coming.

Sighing tiredly she rummaged through her bag for her hairbrush.

"You know, Hermione, we can tell you everything about Marlene, if there's something, _anything_, you want to know."

"I'm not much of a gossip, but thanks for the offer." Hermione smiled at Greta, and she could see the smaller witch huff in disappointment.

Then she considered the offer.

_Oh! That was it!_

Rethinking the offer, she smirked to herself, this was without a doubt the inspiration she had prayed for. Who knew when it might come in handy after all? She sat down on the quilt-covered bed, brush trying to smooth down her erratic curls.

"On second thoughts, fire away Greta."

* * *

There was snoring and then there was _snoring_.

Perhaps this kind of snoring was the kind that warranted capital letters, he supposed. Silencing charms normally worked wonders, but tonight he hadn't felt like using them. He had spent the entire summer at home with his good-for-nothing father, who was rarely at home anyway, as he chose to spend more time at the pub than at home with his sickly wife and loser of a son, and then there was of course his frail mother.

He _needed _company. He _needed _people to surround him. He _needed _to hear them and know they were there, happy and alive, even if they weren't necessarily there for him. And to hear their sounds of breathing and other noises they might make in the course of a night, it was comforting in some weird and creepy way.

He would never openly admit to it though.

_Ever_.

But the snoring was unbearable, he conceded, visibly wincing as James gave a particular spectacular loud snore, and idly wondered if he should warn Lily about James' snoring habits.

He had almost forgotten how bad it was, or at least how bad it could be, living in a dorm with three other guys, sharing everything and having no privacy at all. Still, their presence was reassuring.

He turned around in his bed and burrowed deeper down beneath the familiar covers, not quite sleepy yet but relishing in the soothing feeling of being back. His roommates were all dead asleep without a care in the world, but he always had a hard time readjusting his sleep patterns after holidays spent at home.

_Home_.

Such a funny word. It wasn't like that place held any particular good memories, and the only thing that kept him from taking off like Sirius had done was his mother. He loved his mother more than anything in the world, and he had to wonder what she had ever seen in that arsehole she called a husband. She could do better than that, pureblood or not. It wasn't like that mattered anyway. And now she was stuck in a loveless sham of a marriage, more often than not put on bed rest by the Healers, with only her son for company – when he wasn't at school.

No, he wasn't sure where home was, if he even knew the meaning of the word. Most considered Hogwarts their second home, some even considered it their first and only, but he didn't.

_Couldn't_.

He knew he wasn't really welcome, knew he wasn't included in the little group of friends nicknamed _The Marauders, _although the name Wormtail stated otherwise. He tagged along wherever they went, was the butt of every joke they made, was a pushover in their eyes and to a certain extent he was. In short, he was thought to be stupid.

He wasn't.

He knew they would never see him as their equal. He _knew_. Had known it since their third year but refused to acknowledge it until their fifth.

He had cried when he realised it.

Deep down he knew he should hate them, hate their guts and uncaring attitudes. Hate their nonchalant and at times degrading treatment of him. But he couldn't.

It was like a dam of loathing had spitefully accumulated over the years, just waiting to break free but had yet to do so. He feared the outcome- feared what would happen when the proverbial bubble burst.

Who else did he have to turn to if not them? He had no one else, a fact they had made sure of without him even realising it. It wasn't done consciously however. It just happened.

They were smart, good looking and charismatic. Everybody liked them; even some of the Slytherin girls had crushes on them, and that was saying a lot.

Even Remus. A halfbreed like him was considered to be better and worthy of their attention.

He wasn't stupid. He wasn't.

Potions and Arithmancy were things he just didn't understand. Potions required precision, finesse and a talent for it, while Arithmancy demanded ice-cold logic. He hadn't a clue to either and no one seemed to have patience enough to help him with it, so how could he possibly improve? It didn't make him stupid, because if anyone cared enough to check his marks on everything else, then they would be forced to acknowledge that he was in no way stupid or incompetent. He had managed to become an Animagus along with the two of them, had he not? Rodent or not, it still indicated above average skill.

Yet they still didn't see him for what he truly was. They refused to see it.

He let out a miserable sigh and rubbed his tired eyes.

His thoughts were chaotic. He had managed to create a riot in his mind and had to divert his attention elsewhere if he desired any sleep tonight.

There was always _her _to consider.

Hermione Edwards.

She was special, he could feel it in his bones and it chilled him to the marrow just by looking at her. It was her first day and she had already proven herself to be better at, well, practically everything than anyone else. Even them. They didn't hold a candle to her smarts, he had realised with a startling clarity.

There was something about her, about the way she moved and talked and laughed and smiled, even if she hadn't done much of the latter two. He understood why.

She was like him in some ways, yet had the potential to be so much more, whereas he didn't.

Maybe she was what he had been waiting for. Maybe she was _it_. His salvation, his way out of this hell.

Only time would tell.

Peter Pettigrew was a patient man. He could wait a little longer.

* * *

"Oi, Edwards! Just be glad it wasn't a Slytherin. They have bad breath." Sirius barked a laugh, and the Gryffindors surrounding him snickered. Why he deemed it necessary to comment on her so-called initiation, she didn't know – and at breakfast at that.

"Something you know from experience, Black?" Hermione replied, quirking a brow in the process. She kept her eyes firmly trained on her breakfast as she buttered her toast; she was in no mood to deal with the likes of him or anyone else from Gryffindor for that matter. She could hear a few sixth year Gryffindors, who had eagerly observed the exchange, snicker to themselves.

"You wound me, New Girl! Your cruelty knows no bounds." He feigned hurt by melodramatically covering the place right above his heart, like she had brutishly sent an arrow through.

"Yes, yes. I'm horrible. Deal with it." She didn't even look up. There was no point.

"Good morning, Hermione." Lily's soft voice interrupted her inner musings, as she quietly sat down in the seat next to Hermione.

"Morning." Came the dry response, but Lily took no notice of it and if she did, she didn't show it.

"I'm really sorry about Marlene and Dorcas, they can be a bit too much sometimes. I had a talk with them after you left, you know, after that despicable behaviour in the common room. They agreed to postpone the task until you have settled in properly." Lily smiled at her, and Hermione got the feeling Lily had spoken with capital letters last night.

Unfortunately for Lily, Hermione wasn't it the mood to deal with any of them right now, Lily included.

"No need." Hermione muttered darkly and rummaged through her book bag, she could see from the corner of her eyes that Lily looked strangely at her and her eyes widened almost comically when Hermione pulled Benjy's tie out of her bag and let it slide through her fingers onto the table.

"I assume I will be allowed back in the dorms now?" She quirked an eyebrow at Lily, to which Lily could only nod dumbly in return.

"Oh, and you can tell Marlene, for future reference, that she might reconsider who she insults from now on." Hermione ended crisply and rose from the bench. She was feeling quite smug about the exchange and her little message for McKinnon; she looked forward to executing her revenge. But for now, she settled on heading straight to class.

Class. That brought a wistful smile to her lips.

Hopefully, she would have an uneventful day.

* * *

"Come to think of it, where did you stay last night Edwards?" Marlene interrupted her.

"I fail to see how that is any of your business McKinnon." She didn't bother to look up from her book; she didn't have time for Marlene's childish antics, for she had come to realise that it was nothing more than just that. Jealousy did not become her.

"Humour me." That earned her a scathing glare from Hermione, not that she seemed to remotely care.

"Hufflepuff." That earned her a smirk, and disgusted as she was by the blonde girl's line of thought, she figured she ought to elaborate, if only for the sake of her own sanity – and reputation. "Hufflepuff _girls' _dormitory." She put emphasis on girls'.

"How utterly boring." Marlene exhaled disappointed and haughtily examined her nails, effectively giving off an arrogant vibe.

"_You _would think that."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Marlene snapped irately, and she flicked her long blonde hair over her shoulder.

"Exactly what I said."

"You sure you want to go down that road?"

"What do you mean?" Her face scrunched up in suspicious confusion.

"_Exactly what I said_, Edwards. You might not have been here for long but around here, and by here I mean Gryffindor, we do things my way." She threw Hermione's words right back at her with a malicious smile, and Hermione could feel her fingers itch for her wand.

_Not yet. Patience, _she had to remind herself. But damn it all to Azkaban, Marlene was making it hard for her to contain herself.

"Really? A bit presumptuous of you, I should say." Hermione was fuming, even if she hid it well. She realised that to deal with Marlene, she had to refrain from making any stupid moves, which included engaging in a full-blown battle and throwing hexes at each other in their dorm for everyone to see. Not that she doubted her ability, she knew she had the upper hand there since she had been dealing with Death Eaters most of her teenage years.

That certainly added to her list of skills, and she doubted Marlene had that kind of practice, yet.

"You know, you really ought to think carefully about whom you mess with. You might find yourself on the receiving end one of these days." She shrugged, going for a nonchalant manner of speaking and made to leave, not trusting herself around Marlene much longer.

"Is that a threat?" She quirked a brow at her in that unbelievably obnoxious way only she managed to pull off.

"Think of it as a warning. One of these days you might push me too far."

Hermione was stumped, seething too, but that was beside the point. She had honestly thought Lavender and Parvati were the worst, well, in terms of unbearable Gryffindor girls anyway. Clearly, Pansy Parkinson took the cake of being the most insufferable of them all, or at least that was what she had previously thought. These past days had proved her entirely wrong in that matter. Marlene McKinnon, the Queen Bitch of Gryffindor, was by far the most insufferable, annoying, intolerable she-devil she ever had the misfortune to meet.

Hermione didn't wait around for Marlene's answer; she stalked out of the dormitory, intent on getting away before she did something that, in her book, qualified as stupid.

She needed to think of something to knock Marlene off her high horse and she had just the idea, but it needed some research first. Dorcas wasn't so bad, she supposed. She was actually quite funny and it was only when she was with Marlene that Hermione felt the resentment bubble up, which, _unfortunately _was most of the time.

* * *

She avoided the marauders like the plague, taking refuge in the kitchen, the library, the Room of Requirement or whichever odd places she stumbled upon.

Mary and Alice were practically joined at the hip when Alice wasn't obsessively writing her boyfriend Frank, who had graduated the year before, and Marlene and Dorcas never strayed far from each other either. That left Lily. But with Head duties, her newly acquired relationship with James and friends from other houses and her own, she had little time for anything else. She had of course noticed Lily observing her often enough, looking longingly at the always-empty seat beside her in class or at mealtimes. She didn't know how to address it though, and Hermione didn't feel particular inclined to help her along.

She sometimes studied with Benjy and Corbin in the library, Amelia and Greta would join them once in a while too, but that was just about the only time she saw them. Although during mealtimes they would always acknowledge her by cheerfully waving at her.

Regrettably, they had very few classes together because Hermione took as many advanced classes as she did, and they had their own N.E.W.T's to study for. Only Corbin seemed to have taken a few Advanced courses.

Which ultimately left Hermione to fend for herself. The solitude didn't bother her all that much though, but she missed Harry and Ron terribly, Draco too.

This wasn't her time, and these people weren't her friends. She knew too much and then some. It wasn't fair.

At least the teachers liked her, now that she had cut back on her inane ability to be permanently stuck with her hand in the air, tripping to answer questions that hadn't even been asked yet. Minerva favoured her – that much was clear – and Slughorn practically bounced with glee every time he spotted her in the halls or when she made another perfect potion in class.

She missed home...missed Harry and Ron and her parents. A day didn't pass by without her missing them.

She once again found herself being the odd girl and had resigned herself to being a loner. It was by no means a foreign concept to her, although she couldn't help but wait for Harry and Ron to come and save her from this hell like they had done once before.

Only this time she wasn't facing a troll.

* * *

She was nursing a cup of steaming hot tea in one hand and holding up a good book with the other minding her own business and enjoying the peace and quiet, besides the obvious bustling elves.

"Edwards? How did you get in here?" He looked surprised to see anyone else amongst the hundreds of hardworking house-elves.

"The same way you did I'd wager." She knew that wasn't exactly what he meant but that didn't mean she was going to tell him anything.

"I meant, how did you find this? You haven't exactly been here for long." He eyed her sceptically.

"I know what you meant, but it's not really any of your business." Couldn't he just go away?

"You know, just a piece of friendly advice, but you won't get any friends with the way you're going at it now." Sirius interrupted her, looking almost sympathetically at her, like he knew something she didn't.

"Coming from the boy who's as closed off as the restricted section is to the goody two-shoes students of Hogwarts." She muttered, annoyed. Like he was one to talk, she had seen how he dodged anything remotely personal.

"What's that supposed to mean?" He frowned, having heard her perfectly.

Her body tensed up before answering, "Exactly what I said. You might fool everybody else, acting like a spoiled brat with a hoard of floozies ready at your beck and call but, I reckon that the only person who truly knows you, is James." She kept her eyes on her book, reading the same line again.

"Stop spewing crap Edwards." She had successfully aggravated him it seemed, not that it was something she aimed for, but she was tired of his bratty attitude.

"Hit a nerve, did I? I might choose to isolate myself from others, Black, but you on the other hand, it's almost instinctual the way you keep people at a distance. You don't trust easily, do you? Only James has managed to get through those barriers of yours, hasn't he?" She absently tapped her right foot in annoyance, something she had made a habit of lately where Sirius Black was concerned.

"Been studying me, Edwards?" He drawled nastily, she hit the nail right on the head and it didn't sit well with him. Despite his popularity and the fact that he was always surrounded by people, no one really knew him. He had spent the last seven years of his life surrounded by people he couldn't relate to, only James knew him. Remus came close, but he had nothing on the connection he shared with James. Peter was just there, like the mindless follower he had been since day one. And the girls…well, it was all good for a little while at least, but he couldn't connect with them. In a way he wasn't sure he wanted to either; he would just end up getting hurt.

To be fair, they knew precisely what they agreed to, they knew how he would fool around for some time and then out of nowhere, dump them on their sorry arses when he grew bored, or rather when they got to close for his liking.

"A bit presumptuous of you Black, but I suppose all that female attention has finally clouded all rational thinking on your part. And no, everyone who's got a few working brain cells would know you act like a complete prat for show." She slammed her book shut and looked him in the eyes; her glaring brown eyes met stormy grey.

"Perhaps it is presumptuous of you to think you know a damn thing about me! You hide behind those books of yours, and if I didn't know any better I would say that you are the one who's bloody afraid to let other people in!" He taunted.

"I have had enough friends, and frankly, I am tired of seeing them drop dead like flies. Think of it as me being concerned for your safety." She added the last part in a sarcastic drawl that would have made Draco proud.

"Oh really? Knowing you I find it very hard to believe you ever had friends." He sneered at her, giving her a once over in the process. Oddly enough the words hurt, it stung like a killer bee and perhaps it was because she was reminded of her life prior to Harry and Ron. Whatever the reason for the pain, she kept the tears at bay and refused to show any kind of weakness in front of him.

"I suppose a judgmental prat like yourself wouldn't understand. But I had friends worth dying for and the pain of losing them is far greater than you will ever know! So why don't you hurry back to your precious little Potter and stay there like the good little lap-dog you are?" She yelled at him, her patience long gone. She had barely even noticed she had risen from her seat and was standing right in front of the great prat, poking his chest with her index finger. Her eyes burned with fury as they narrowed into tiny slits, and her hair started to frizz, much like it had when she was younger.

Hermione Granger was pissed off.

It was amazing how fast he had managed to rile her up to this level of irritation and exempt a response, not even Marlene had had the satisfaction to see her lose her cool.

In retrospect, it didn't surprise her all that much. The Sirius Black she had known in the original timeline had always been quick to anger her with his carelessness and disregard for rules. Also, in her time he had known the excruciating pain of losing the people closest to him, but right now - in this time - he did not, and she would damn well make sure he didn't, even if he acted like a bloody prat most of the time.

When did she get so cynical? Naturally, she had always been extremely logical, but downright cynical? That was Draco's job. But with the way she was going at it, she could give him a run for his money. She desperately needed Ron to berate for all his stupidity and Harry to cheer her up in that slightly awkward way only Harry could manage. Perhaps even Draco to verbally spar with- at least he kept her on her toes.

These days she hardly felt anything, she ate, she studied, she slept and that was it. Of course there was the occasional group study with the Hufflepuffs, but that hardly sufficed as a social life. She just couldn't bear the thought of getting close to anyone again.

Who knew when they would be ripped out of her life?

She wished she had someone to share her burden with, but that was out of the question.

"Fine! Suit yourself, you good-for-nothing bookworm. Live your life alone and see if I care." He spat at her as he stared her down, grabbing her hand in the process to stop the incessant poking.

For a moment they just stood there, staring each other down – or trying to, in Hermione's case- eyeing each other with something akin to contempt. She vaguely noticed the spark of electricity his touch ignited, but ignored it valiantly, and she could see he struggled to contain his fury as much as she did.

"Let go of my hand, you big brute." She hissed venomously at him.

"From now on, don't speak to me or you will regret it." He sneered at her, and dropped her hand so fast it seemed like it had burned him, then he turned on his heel and stormed out of the kitchen, taking long strides to get away from her as fast as possible.

Hermione glared at his retreating form, her anger still very apparent. She could see from the corner of her eyes that several house-elves had stopped to look at the fight.

Then Auggy loyally appeared at her side, afraid her new friend might be upset.

"Auggy thinks that didn't go very well."

"I believe you are quite right about that, Auggy."

* * *

It was, for once, a quiet, sunny, and warm morning in mid-September when Hermione finally had enough.

The Gryffindor girls had practically shunned her, although her nonchalant attitude didn't help much either in that respect. She hadn't bothered to approach any of them, and the few times Mary and Alice had hesitantly tried to connect with her, she had flat out refused their friendliness, still irked by the very first night in Gryffindor tower, which was ultimately spent in the Hufflepuff basement. (Lily still seemed a bit miffed by Hermione's refusal of her friendliness, but she honestly couldn't be bothered by such trivial things.)

She avoided Marlene and Dorcas at all costs, which was probably for the best, but Marlene still went out of her way to annoy her once in a while doing things like sending tripping jinxes when she thought no one was looking. And it was more of an annoyance to Hermione than anything else. Her reflexes from her time on the run were still very much intact, and very useful when it came to Marlene. There were other incidents too, but they were hardly worth mentioning.

Then there was Lily, dear sweet Lily. She honestly didn't know what to think of her, she didn't take any of Marlene's crap but she didn't exactly help Hermione either. She was just there really, always observing. She also spent a lot of time with James, which Hermione wasn't going to ruin if she wanted Harry to exist. Sometimes the rest of the marauders were included too, although Hermione had no idea how that worked out, since she seemed more likely to hex them than anything else.

The Marauders. They were truly puzzling. She had talked a bit with Remus, purely academic of course, but it hadn't really gone beyond that. Peter she ignored, she had no wish to be in the vicinity of the traitorous rat, and she was honestly worried she would snap and try to cause him bodily harm. James was all right, she supposed, when he wasn't acting like an annoying git with Sirius. Those two, together, really pushed her buttons at times with the way they would loudly disturb her precious study time or play pranks on everyone in the common room. She could honestly say they were worse than the Weasley twins. Thank Merlin for Lily and her constant scolding; she wasn't sure how or what the Gryffindor common room would look like if she didn't.

Also, Sirius had the adopted the uncanny ability to render her speechless, just by staring at her, which he did quite often now that she thought about it, however odd that may sound.

She wasn't sure where it stemmed from, but she gathered he was just curious like everybody else in the damned school were. She had deliberately refrained from volunteering any personal information, only sharing the most impersonal and unimportant details to avoid suspicion.

To be fair, it was probably after their fight in the kitchen that he had resigned to observing her. He knew she had been right in her assessment of him and it bothered him, she could tell. At least he hadn't outright tried to prank her, or something worse. She wouldn't put it past him- a Marauder.

Which brought her back to the present. She had just about had it with Marlene and her prissy attitude. Now that she actually had time to consider her options carefully, it was time to act. She was glad she had listened to Greta back in the Hufflepuff dormitory. The small witch had presented her with valuable information on Marlene and now it was time to use it, and use it well.

Greta had revealed that Marlene was deadly afraid of snakes, and after a rather unfortunate incident in their second year (the irony was not lost on her), it was a widely known fact among the seventh year students. That fact alone presented a lot of opportunities.

She had bided her time and now Marlene was going to pay.

* * *

If there was one thing Hermione had noticed, it was Marlene's daily habits which were consistent if nothing else. And this day promised a few changes and a lot of fun, well, perhaps not in Marlene's case as much as it applied to Hermione and boy, had she planned it down to the last detail.

Hermione was usually one of the first to grace the Great Hall with her presence, but this morning she was a bit later than usual. She had made sure that when Marlene had her regular morning shower, she would not exactly be encountering water.

Mud was such a nice alternative.

Granted, Hermione wouldn't be there when it happened, but it wouldn't do to land herself in detention this early in the year; even she had standards.

Sitting quietly in the Great Hall she could only imagine the look of horror on Marlene's face, but that was just as well.

She had a slight bounce in her step as she was skipping merrily to class. The mud shower was only one of the many fantastic things this day had in store for Marlene.

She was not disappointed when Marlene arrived fifteen minutes late to transfiguration- her face horribly red, which was no doubt a result of yelling and screaming her throat sore; she had Dorcas in tow looking equally frustrated. She still had remnants of mud sticking to her normally gorgeous blonde hair, and she could practically feel her eyes bore into the back of her head, as they took a seat in the back of the room.

Good.

Then came lunch. Delightfully wonderful lunch.

First, there was Marlene's daily cup of tea. Apparently she didn't function well without it, and of course with Auggy on her side just eager to help in any way possible...well, it was needless to say; it hadn't been particularly difficult to exchange Marlene's cup with a nose-biting one, nor had it been difficult to spike it with belch powder.

Hermione would never forget the horror-stricken look on Marlene's face as her seemingly docile and normally inanimate cup sprung lively from her hands after a few sips, and attacked her pert little nose with vigour. She tore the cup violently away from her nose, but it only resulted in agitating the cup, whereto it actually bit so hard that it drew blood.

Hopefully it would leave a small scar as a reminder.

Most of the Great Hall was observing Marlene's actions, as she had shrieked out loud and managed to draw practically everyone's attention to her, and they watched in a mixture of amusement and horror, as the blonde girl frantically rose from her seat beside Dorcas, only to start belching rather unattractively. Her hands immediately went to cover her mouth, but it only served to muffle the sound somewhat.

With a bleeding nose, non-stop belching and a somewhat laughing student body, Marlene figured her day couldn't get any worse.

Hermione begged to differ.

Non-verbally and very discreetly, Hermione waved her wand in graceful movement under the table, sure that no one saw her. The reaction was instantaneous.

The horrifying scream of Marlene McKinnon would never be forgotten by any of the current residents of Hogwarts, nor would the laughter of everyone in the Great Hall that day.

Hermione watched the shocked expression on Dorcas' face, as the girl watched her best friend scream like an uncontrollable banshee. Hermione felt proud. She had successfully transfigured Marlene's skirt into a, well, the best phrase for it was probably- hula skirt of snakes. She had actually succeeded in transfiguring something inanimate into something animate, actual living snakes were dangling around Marlene's waist, occasionally hissing in displeasure.

They were not poisonous; even she was not that cruel.

Contentedly, Hermione took a bite of her ham and cheese sandwich, relishing in the shrieking girl storming out of the Great Hall, while screaming bloody murder again with Dorcas in tow.

This was definitely the best day so far.

* * *

The last thing Hermione heard before she placed her customary silencing spells and protective spells on her large canopy bed, was the mad shriek of one pissed off Marlene McKinnon.

"EDWARDS!"

She had forgotten all about the Flobberworms in Marlene's bed. It was a lovely way to conclude a nearly perfect day and she couldn't help but think that the twins would have been proud.

With a content smile she drifted off to sleep.

* * *

"How are you settling in?" He asked kindly, silently offering her a sherbet lemon, his hand gently indicating to the bowl of sweets standing proud and welcoming on the big claw-footed mahogany desk. She shook her head no, not really in the mood for his all-time favoured sweet.

"As well as could be expected, I suppose." She made no further move to explain herself, already feeling out of her element, he nodded in understanding.

"It came to my attention that you slept in the Hufflepuff dormitory on your first day." He elaborated. She felt her eyebrows shoot up in surprise and he let out a small chuckle.

"I wasn't allowed in the Gryffindor dorms, you see, something about needing to complete a Gryffindor initiation first." Her gaze flickered to the many odd objects in his office.

"Oh yes, the Gryffindor initiation." Hermione gave him a funny look, startled to find that the Headmaster of all people would know of such a thing. How was it that the concept didn't exist in the 90s? Not that she wanted it to, mind you, but she was still feeling curious as to how it was abolished before her time at Hogwarts.

"Don't look so surprised, dear girl. The teachers are well aware of the on-goings here at Hogwarts." He gave her a knowing smile, and his blue eyes twinkled infuriatingly. "Initiations and tasks have been present for as long as this old mind of mine can remember. I clearly recall having an initiation of my own, although the tasks back in the day weren't quite so frivolous and promiscuous as they appear to be today." At that last comment Hermione was just about ready to bury herself. To think that he knew the extent of the Gryffindor girls' sixth year task was much too horrifying to even contemplate.

"Err, I… uh." She stopped herself before she would embarrass herself even further. "Sorry, that wasn't very eloquent." He let out another chuckle. If nothing else, she had at least proved to amuse him greatly.

"Oh! I also happened to witness quite the ingenious transfiguration yesterday, a rather unfortunate incident for Miss McKinnon, but ingenious nonetheless." He exclaimed and clasped his hands in front of him, while eyeing her curiously. Was there anything he didn't know?

"Is that so?" She schooled her features well but it was clear to her that he knew exactly who had transfigured Marlene's skirt into a hula of snakes.

"Yes, it is quite a feat to transfigure an inanimate object into an animate, immense concentration is needed, and of course, an intimate knowledge of the anatomy of the chosen animal. And to transfigure that many at once indicates someone of great ability."

"That does indeed sound fascinating." But of course she already knew all that, although to hear the Headmaster speak so highly of her achievement spoke volumes of the level of difficulty involved. Truthfully, she hadn't thought much of it, only focusing on getting even with Marlene.

"Indeed."

She knew it then. This year –_this time_– would prove to be difficult. And knowing her headmaster, she knew he would grate on her nerves.

He already did.

_TBC…_

* * *

AN: And she gets her revenge. About bloody time, I should say. I hope it was satisfactory?

But soooo **not** over yet.

Sorry about the wait, it took a bit longer than anticipated. I had a few personal problems to take care of - and I got a beta (Yay!), and that's a humongous thanks to AbsurdInsomnia for correcting my errors. I don't know what I would have done without her.

THANK YOU OH ALMIGHTY BETA GOD!

I don't know when the next update will be, since I have two jobs right now, furthermore I have a few commissions I have to do before anything else, I draw portraits you see, and currently I have two in the waiting. Not to mention friends and family outings… it is summer after all.

About the story: We have yet to reach Hermione's birthday, if anyone was wondering, as I only stated it was mid-September. There was a little insight into Peter's sorry mind, and there's a lot more to come of that; he will have his special place in this story. Also, next chapter will give an explanation as to what James and Sirius are thinking. Minerva will also make an appearance soon and there is plotting and planning with Dumbledore… And of course the Snape issue will be dealt with. Oh boy, I seem to have quite a lot of work to do, don't I?

About Hermione: Well, she is certainly "waking up" so to speak. She won't take any crap from anyone from now on, rest assured. I absolutely hate weak-Hermione but I felt the initiation needed to be done.

And OH MY UNICORN! Thank you so much for all the lovely reviews, favs and alerts! I will get around to replying some of them one of these days, truly I will.

Cheers!


	6. Chapter Five: Friendship

Disclaimer: I own nothing. By Merlin, it's tiring to keep repeating that.

* * *

**CHAPTER FIVE: Friendship**

"_Wishing to be friends is quick work, but friendship is a slow ripening fruit."_

~ Aristotle

* * *

Sirius Black was acting strange and he refused to tell anyone what was wrong.

See, normally it wouldn't bother James all that much, as his best mate was known to have a vast array of mood swings that could rival that of a pregnant woman - and of course be more unpredictable than the English weather. But this time he had absolutely refused to tell James as well.

Now _that_ stung.

They were supposed to be the best of mates; even his Lily flower called them soul mates, in a purely platonic, non-girly way of course, although that last part had been added for his sake only, and perhaps, his peace of mind.

Still, they were life mates for Merlin's sake! They were supposed to tell each other everything! Everything!

But James knew he didn't, not even close.

Tragic as it was, James knew there was some part of Sirius that was much too damaged for him to ever fully open up to anyone, least of all petty girlfriends who flung themselves at him like pixies flocked to sweets and shiny things. It was a sad thing really, to know that his best mate would probably never settle down, and even if Sirius claimed to like that sort of unstable and inconsistent lifestyle, James knew that wasn't really the case. Sure, the prat would boast about his countless conquests until James was certain his ears would vomit if they could, but the arrogant git _did_ know about his own shortcomings - and he loathed every single one of them.

It tore at James' heartstrings every time he watched his best friend run around in circles, it was simply maddening to watch the same scenario play out again and again and _again_. To idly stand by and watch, and the absolutely worst part of it all; know he couldn't do a damn thing about it.

And it was all thanks to the Blacks.

_They_ had been responsible for the damnation of this intelligent and loyal guy with a heart of gold, _they_ were responsible for Sirius' aversion to feelings and relationships;_ they_ were unquestionably the cause of it all.

Over the years they had slowly instilled a sense of insecurity in his already frail and uncertain mind, they had repeatedly told him he wasn't good enough and that he never would be, nor would he ever live up to their insane expectations.

Gradually they had managed to create an ever-growing hatred in him, albeit a hatred for them.

James knew growing up had been tough on his best mate, and ever since James had met him, he had known him to be a very tactile person, always reaching out for contact somehow, and it wasn't until the end of their first year James had fully and understood the reason for this.

He had been so deprived from human touch and affection, which by all means were simple things in life, and once he was sorted into Gryffindor, a place where everyone was open-minded and touchy almost to a fault, he had relished in those moments.

Once Sirius had grown older and realised what a handsome specimen he was (James couldn't really deny it; it was a simple fact that they, Sirius Black and James Potter, were considered a pair of handsome boys.), he exploited it and used it to his favour.

James didn't, _couldn't_, blame him for fooling around all the time, not when taking into account who had raised him, or rather, those awful people who had once claimed to be his family, while desperately trying to mess up his views on good and bad. He doubted they had ever really wanted him, other than for keeping their long line of inbred family alive, because as far as James knew, there hadn't exactly been much love and family time in the Black household.

_Ever._

Love was essential for a child while growing up, or at least that's what his mother had told him time and again, and James didn't doubt her very wise words. He had never been short on anything while growing up in Godric's Hollow, especially in terms of love and affection. He could barely keep up with the overflow of hugs and kisses he received every time he was home, but perhaps, in his case, he had received extra attention because he was an only child.

_Well, not anymore_, he supposed.

Sirius was as much a part of the Potter family now as he was, and if you considered the fact that they were both purebloods, he figured they ought to be related one way or another. Not that blood mattered much anyway, because it really didn't, at least not in James' opinion.

But still, it was sickening to think about how they were all related to each other somehow, and _that_ was something James hoped to rectify by marrying Lily one day. Not that he wanted to marry her simply because she was muggleborn, no, that was definitely not the case; he wanted to marry her because he loved her, well and truly loved her – by all of his heart.

He had developed a silly school crush on her in their third year, by their fourth he was madly in love with her but didn't know how to handle it properly, and by their fifth he knew she was _the_ _one_, even if she hadn't quite seen it like that at the time. Nonetheless, he had still known.

Now they were in their seventh year and happily dating. He was even considering proposing by the time of graduation, although he was still weighing the pros and cons of doing it there. Earlier was out of the question and would probably scare off Lily completely, and later would most likely kill him due to anticipation and impatience. In all, graduation was perfect.

That's what his warped, Lily-focused mind told him anyway.

He shook his head and turned his attention back to his perfect Lily flower, who was still sitting contentedly in the armchair opposite of him, reading intently for tomorrow's Potions lesson. A small frown was marring her beautiful features, and James suspected the situation with the new girl still bothered her; she had said as much yesterday when Marlene had been pranked in public, and apparently in their dorm as well. The new girl had spunk, certainly, if she truly was the one behind the ultimate pranking of Marlene McBitch; no one could prove anything, and Marlene _did_ have an awful lot of enemies around the castle.

He just wished Sirius would be as open and free as Lily; the redhead never failed to mention when something bothered her, and if James did anything she found even remotely wrong, he would be sure to get an earful.

"Are you okay James? You look a bit tired."

"I'm fine…it's just Sirius…" He sighed dejectedly, "I don't know…he's just been so weird the last week or so, and he won't talk to me about it." He removed his glasses and rubbed his tired eyes, head hanging defeated.

"I noticed." Lily said wryly. "He's been acting rather…_strange_ lately, or at least moodier than usual." She lowered her Potions book to the table.

"I know. He's barely even looked at a girl, and I'm beginning to wonder if there's some great apocalypse drawing near." He put his glasses back in place and slumped back against the sofa, his brown eyes tired and unfocused.

"I'm sure." She snorted, and for a minute she settled for observing her boyfriend's downtrodden demeanour intently, noticing how exhausted and depressed he looked, before she decided to do a little cheering up.

She rose from her seat in the comfy armchair she usually preferred and went around the table, promptly sitting down in James' lap, surprising him a great deal.

"You know," She started, sneaking one arm around his neck and the other carefully going to lift up his face, "I'm sure Sirius will come around. You know how he is, and he probably just needs time to process whatever it is that bothers him like the dunderhead he is. Before you know it he'll be back to his unmistakable promiscuous behaviour." She whispered sweetly in his ear.

"I hope you're right…it's just, I haven't seen him so bothered since he ran away from home before sixth year. Normally he bounces right back after a couple of days." He buried his head in the crook of her neck, enjoying the feel of her soft skin and addictive scent that was uniquely hers. "It's been a week." He mumbled into her shoulder.

"It's going to be fine James, just wait and see, the great prat will bounce right back in a few days time. If not, well, I'll be happy to hex his sorry arse for you." She said proudly, and gently kissed the top of James' head.

He laughed and raised his head to look her in the eyes. "I appreciate that."

"Where is he by the way? Remus and Peter too, I don't think I have seen any of them since dinner." She asked him curiously, if not a bit wary, a frown threatening to break out again. Who knew what the Marauders were up to, especially when left alone for longer periods of time?

"Sirius is off sulking somewhere, I'm sure." He sighed heavily. "Remus is tutoring second years in the library, and I'm not really sure where or what Peter is doing." He shrugged dismissively at the mention of Peter.

"You really ought to treat Peter more nicely. That goes for all of you." She said disapprovingly, but didn't move from her seat on James' lap. He settled for groaning in response, tired of hearing the same thing over and over again, but reckoned he needed to divert her attention before she headed into a full-blown rant. He needed to move her focus on something else entirely.

A brilliant idea occurred to him, and he looked mischievously up at her, his brown eyes twinkling with something she couldn't quite place. She could practically feel the unease wash over her.

Then, before she could protest, he turned her over on their shared sofa, James hovering above her, and Lily herself sprawled out beneath him on the worn leather sofa that had been standing in the Gryffindor common room for years. She gave a loud shriek, to which a few shot amused glances in their direction, already used to their bantering and James' inner prankster. James could only laugh at Lily's outraged and positively mortified expression.

"James! Not in the common room!" She hissed, embarrassed, and if looks could kill she would have killed him several times over already with that menacing glare of hers, which, for the record, seemed especially toxic this evening.

"To the dorms then?"

* * *

_She was running. Sweat was dripping, chunks of damp hair clung to her face and neck, and her breathing was heavy and irregular._

_She needed to go faster. Much faster. _

_Faster, faster, faster! _

_There was an almost hysterical voice in the back of her mind desperately telling her she was running for her life, and that she should keep running despite the unbearable pain she felt in her limbs and lungs and mind. _

_It didn't matter. Nothing mattered anymore - except running. Running mattered, _living_ mattered._

_Something or someone was chasing her, she could almost feel the hot and clammy breath of her pursuer, and she really wished she didn't. _

_Trees, bushes and a smell that was distinctly forest surrounded her, yet her senses were frustratingly dulled by the biting cold, and the freezing cold winter air tore at her exposed skin on her arms. _

_The Forest of Dean was eerily familiar and at the moment the last place she wanted to be._

_What was she doing here? Why was she in The Forest of Dean?_

_Her mind's fearful musings were interrupted. She could hear harsh, revolting panting not far behind her, and she urged herself to increase her pace, the disgusting sounds all too familiar for her liking. She had the terrible sense of __déjà vu, but couldn't quite recall why or when she would have been in a situation like this before. _

_She tried to look over her shoulder in order to determine the distance between her and her pursuer, even though the dark would make it difficult to see, still, she needed to know. She saw no one, the harsh panting momentarily gone as well, and in her confusion she tripped, falling hard over the exposed roots from a tree. _

_She hissed in pain, as her knees scraped on the frozen ground and her trousers were torn when her knees connected with the hard earth, and her arms were bleeding from where she tried to soften her fall. A chill of apprehension and horror went down her spine, and gooseflesh broke out on her skin only seconds later._

_She could see a shadow, an ominous form towering dangerously over her fallen body, and she twisted herself around to look at the looming person. _

_A huge, bestial-looking man with pointed teeth and long yellowish nails towered over her, his matted grey hair clung to his face and neck because of the sweat produced during the chase. He looked gruesome, like her worst nightmare come true._

_But he was no nightmare; he was something much, much worse. _

_He was real._

"_Hello little Mudblood."_

She woke up screaming, her eyes wild and body drenched in sweat. Her hair was frizzing insanely, and she was desperately gasping for air. Her eyes darted around, seeing nothing but the ugly familiar Gryffindor curtains surrounding her four-poster bed in the girls' dormitory.

There wasn't a sound to be heard except for her own harsh breathing, and she felt instantly relieved to know that her silencing charms and protective spells worked.

She fell back against her practically soaked pillow, not bothering to dry it with her wand as she was much to exhausted to even contemplate lifting a wand.

_What a way to begin my nineteenth birthday. _

* * *

A big, snowy white owl swooped down and landed in front of her, causing quite a few to turn around and stare observingly the exchange. The beautiful white owl stuck its left foot out so she could take the letter addressed to her, and she hurriedly grabbed for a piece of bacon to give to the owl. The owl gulped it down eagerly, pleased by her thoughtfulness, while she swiftly untied the letter.

It took off again, no doubt returning to the Owlery, or wherever it belonged to, and Hermione looked sceptically at the letter in her hands. It was only addressed to Hermione with no surname attached, and it was written in familiar cursive, loopy letters. She frowned suspiciously at the envelope, but decided to open it, as the familiarity of the writing seemed safe enough.

_Hermione,_

_Congratulations on another year in this wondrous world. I hope you will join me for some late afternoon tea. Shall we say at 4 o'clock?_

_Sincerely _

_Albus Dumbledore _

_P.S. Cauldron Cakes are such delicious treats, wouldn't you agree?_

_Well,_ she thought with a wry smile, _that explained the familiarity then_.

She sighed deeply, as she folded the letter and put it in her bag, momentarily fumbling with the clasp of her brown leather bag.

It wasn't exactly what she had in mind for her nineteenth birthday, but chatting with Albus Dumbledore over tea? She shook her head sardonically and turned back to her scrambled eggs and bacon, ignoring the odd looks shot in her direction; it wasn't often the new girl received post, in fact, this was the first time, which several nosy inhabitants of the castle had indeed noticed.

She had grown used to their enquiring stares, or rather, she had adapted as much as she possibly could in her peculiar situation. But then again, she supposed the attention she was receiving on a daily basis wasn't all too different from the unwanted attention that came with being the best friend of Harry Potter.

To her it had simply become a matter of adapting to the changes around her, ignoring the countless of shameless stares sent in her direction and dodging unwelcome questions, and so far she had done admirably - if she said so herself.

Ignoring bothersome people was easy when one had a long-term goal in mind.

Except when it came to the unnerving attention two individuals in particular paid her.

Being under the constant scrutiny of Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew rattled her cage more than she liked to admit.

The first she understood, sort of at least, after their fight in the kitchens it seemed inevitable, but the latter? The latter she couldn't comprehend _at all_.

Sirius Black glared at her regularly whenever he seemed to recall their irksome interlude in the kitchen; otherwise he would, at other times, just stare distractedly and quite intently at her, apparently lost in his thoughts (who knew he had any?). And she had of course noticed his decidedly odd and brooding behaviour since their squabble; James certainly whined enough about it in the common room for her not to notice.

She had hit the nail on the head so to speak, which he hadn't liked one bit, and honestly, she couldn't care less; Sirius Black was an egoistical, arrogant prat and that was the end of it. Someone needed to put him in place, and that someone had inadvertently happened to be her, since no one else seemed to be up for the task. They were all too busy being blinded by his disturbingly good looks and charismatic personality to come up with anything resembling rational behaviour around him.

What was wrong with people in the 70s?

Peter Pettigrew on the other hand, now that was a completely different matter. She had noticed his fleeting glances, intense as they were, and she had no idea what went through his sick little head. Sirius was easy to figure out, but Pettigrew? She hadn't a clue.

She felt sorry for him often enough, which was something she hadn't counted on. And if anyone asked, she would deny it faster than they could say _Protego_.

It was a curious thing indeed to watch him interact with the rest of the Marauders, and every time they would treat him like a lesser being; she couldn't help but feel sorry for him. In fact, she was beginning to understand why he might have betrayed the Potter's the first time around, horrible as the thought was.

But it was becoming glaringly obvious to see where the animosity stemmed from.

She looked up, shocked to find Pettigrew staring at her again; she stared right back. _What the hell was his problem?_

She hastily pushed her empty plate away from her and swiftly rose from her seat, isolated as it was. She did not have the stomach for having a staring contest with Peter Pettigrew on her birthday.

* * *

Hermione Edwards was an enigma.

She was a puzzle that simply refused to be solved, he concluded, irritated and ready to tear out chunks of hair in pure frustration, had it not been for the fact that his glossy black locks were much too perfect to be sacrificed for something so trivial.

That night in the kitchen still lingered in his mind, and the encounter had left a bad taste in its wake. The things she had said to him…he didn't know how she had him figured out so fast.

_She hadn't even been in the castle for a whole month dammit!_

How could she possibly know? How? Most of the girls at Hogwarts didn't even know him that well, even if most thought they did.

There was a darkness lingering within him, and after growing up the way he did, he supposed it was inevitable. He was prone to loosing his temper and throwing tantrums, regularly, much like a spoiled child would. It was always when things bothered him, or people got too close for comfort, but it only ever happened because he was so mixed up inside. He couldn't deal with certain things in life, regrettably so.

He was angry at his inability to commit, and while most might think him proud of his playboy title, which roamed the castle and followed his person around, he wasn't.

Okay, so maybe he did feel a smidgen of male pride, but no one could really fault him for that, could they? He was a handsome devil and an amazingly intelligent guy, so why shouldn't all the lovely girls trip over themselves to get his attention?

Yet trust never came easy to him.

He never trusted his own family, so why should other people be any different? Be they fawning girls, impressed teachers or any other, it didn't matter to him.

Somehow he just didn't do well with consistency in terms of relationships, be they friendly or romantically inclined; either way was a foreign concept to him.

James, however, was a special case. His best friend since day one at Hogwarts had never been anything other than loyal and trustworthy.

That said, he couldn't help but find it incredibly difficult to open up to anyone, to trust another person that wasn't James, even Remus he had trouble with. Peter didn't really count, he supposed, as he would never disclose any of the personal stuff he did to James - and sometimes Remus.

But Remus couldn't ever compare to the likes of James, and he suspected Remus knew that – knew and accepted it, simply glad to have found someone accepting of him and his condition. James was special though. He was just as devilishly handsome and intelligent as Sirius himself, but he was open too, never afraid to let people in and discover new friends.

James was one of a kind.

James had also long since found his one and only, which Sirius strongly suspected he had, perhaps subconsciously, known since the first time he laid eyes on _her_, Lily Evans. Granted, he hadn't been more than eleven at the time, but he had known on some level nonetheless, although Sirius was certain James hadn't recognized the feeling until their fifth year.

_Stupid bugger._

James Potter would marry Lily Evans. He could see it in his friend's face every time he looked at his redheaded witch. He'd found what he was looking for, and the devil of it was that he'd known for years already.

He could barely count the number of times he'd told James to give up on the fiery redhead over the years, assuming she would never cave and give him the time of the day, which until quite recently had been the general opinion of the castle. Sirius had called him ridiculous often enough in their younger years; the love-struck fool seemed to be hooves over antlers for the girl, and really, what had he truly wanted with a scrawny little redhead, who was best friends with Snivellus?

He had been wrong, of course, and he was glad Lily had finally accepted his best friend's genuine feelings. She had grown out of the skinny look once she was done gaining height, and the Snivellus part, well, that was just a subject no one mentioned,_ ever_, if they valued their life.

Lily Evans was strong-willed, intelligent and mischievous enough to keep James' attention for longer periods of time, even if she spent most of her time _trying_ to keep them all in line. Trying being the operative word.

The mischievous part of her only came out if she truly trusted those around her, and it only ever happened whenever James wasn't in the vicinity so he could use it against her later.

Overall, one could say the vivacious redhead was quite the catch.

And now that Lily was in the picture Sirius would just have to adapt and make room for her, but should she ever hurt his best mate, unintentionally or not, then she would have him to answer to.

He had never envied James for having loving parents, nor had he ever envied him anything else in life, but the fact that he had the ability to let people in so easily tore at Sirius. He would never say it though, but James probably knew anyway. James always knew.

His gloomy behaviour these past days probably bothered James; it always seemed to anyhow.

Frowning, he looked at his sleepy best friend sitting in the seat next to him. Chuckling slightly to himself, Sirius thought that James looked like he was about to land head first in his breakfast.

"Prongsie, _mate_, wake up before your breakfast redecorates your pretty little face." He nudged James, gently.

"I knew you found me attractive." James mumbled tiredly into the palm of his hand where his head was currently resting, a sly grin appearing on his lips.

"Tosser."

Indeed, no one could ever compare to James Potter.

* * *

Hermione didn't get very far in her quest to reach the DADA classroom, as somebody none to gently yanked her to the side just as she exited the Great Hall, with the intention of getting to class early. She was just about to draw out her wand, when she came face to face with Marlene McKinnon.

"What do you want McKinnon?" Hermione sneered menacingly, not in the mood to deal with the horrendous girl on her birthday.

"Warn you." She stated simply, her voice cold and her eyes hard as steel. Unfortunately for Marlene, It didn't faze Hermione one bit.

Being exposed to Bellatrix Lestrange - post Azkaban - really put the word intimidation in a whole new perspective. Marlene was like a Flobberworm in comparison.

She could see Marlene raise her wand, probably to make a point, but before the blonde girl even knew what happened, Hermione had her wand out and had Marlene pushed up against the wall, her vine wood wand pressed threateningly to Marlene's throat, as if daring her to make one wrong move.

Call it instinct, but Hermione had no wish to be on the receiving end of anyone's wand, jealous schoolgirls or not, they had no right.

"Now you listen here McKinnon, and I advise you to listen good." Hermione started unkindly, her eyes flashing dangerously. "From now on you and Meadowes are going to leave me alone, and if you don't, I'll make sure that what happened two days ago in the Great Hall will seem like child's play in comparison. You see, today is my birthday and if I find you pulling any stupid stunts and disturb my peace, you _will_ regret it until the day you die." Hermione hissed venomously, her wand digging harder into Marlene's throat and she could see the blonde girl's eyes widen in surprise.

_Good._

Hermione's gaze was ice-cold and unwavering, staring the other girl down despite the height difference, which was clearly in Marlene's favour. Hermione slowly retracted her wand, and she could see Marlene sigh in relief, as she sagged against the cold stonewall.

Seeing her task done, Hermione turned around with every intention of leaving, but after a few steps she looked back over her shoulder, shooting a nasty glare in the blonde's direction.

"Oh, and McKinnon?" Marlene looked up. "Just be glad I didn't do anything permanent, although the thought certainly crossed my mind." She threw over her shoulder, her frosty glare unsettling to anyone who didn't know her like Harry and Ron, before she left the otherwise vacant corridor.

The way she held herself, frighteningly calm and ominous in a way Marlene couldn't quite explain, like one wrong move would unleash heaven and hell at the same time, it made Marlene shiver.

And for the first time Marlene McKinnon regretted making an enemy out of Hermione Edwards.

* * *

School hours moved faster than Hermione had dared to hope, as her only wish for the rest of her birthday was to get the quick visit to Dumbledore's office over with and then proceed to retreat to the dorms. She had a prearranged date with her bed and a very fascinating book on Ancient Runes waiting for her, and she was quite content with that. She could even get Auggy to smuggle some food into the dorm room so she wouldn't have to eat dinner in the kitchen, or the Great Hall.

But despite the rather meek expectations she had in regards to her birthday, she had been on a roll all morning, having received no less than thirty points for her rather ungrateful and undeserving house. She shrugged inwardly; it was to be expected after all.

She was on her way to lunch in the Great Hall, calmly thinking about her plans for the night, when Benjy sidled up next to her, looking just as carefree appearance-wise as always, but for the first time since she arrived, he looked glum. And dare she think it – pissed off.

"What's wrong?" She asked softly, speaking in gentle tones, as she always did where Benjy was concerned. She had taken a liking to the younger guy, and found his company easy and comfortable.

He looked incredulously at her. "What's wrong? I'll tell you what's wrong! It's been exactly one month and three days since The King died! Can you believe it?" He spoke harshly, very unlike the Benjy she had come to know.

"The King?" Hermione frowned confused. His words made absolutely no sense to her, and she was beginning to think that either something was very wrong with him, or she had missed something extremely important somewhere along the lines.

"Yes, The King! You know, Elvis Presley!" He almost yelled at her, desperation marking his words.

"Oh." She simply stated, uncertain of how to react. Benjy was clearly upset, but why the outburst came now, apparently a whole month and three days later, she couldn't comprehend, and of course why it was such a big deal at all.

"Oh? What do you mean 'Oh'? It's a tragedy! The world of music is lost without him! The King of rock and roll is dead and no one seems to-"

"Hold it right there, you dolt." Corbin said through his teeth, as he came up behind them and grabbed hold of the back of Benjy's neck, much like he had done back in the Hufflepuff common room.

"I'm so sorry Hermione. I'm afraid one of the Ravenclaws insulted this great prat's idol, and it awoke some unresolved issues regarding said idol's premature death." Corbin sighed frustrated, clearly having dealt with a similar situation before, much to his chagrin.

"Well that explains it then. I was afraid he had gone daft for a minute there." Hermione rolled her eyes, but she couldn't help but grin at the exchange.

"You two are mean. I hate you. Both of you. We are officially no longer friends." Benjy pouted insulted and crossed his arms over his chest, not even bothering to try to remove Corbin's hand from his neck, but instead settled for acting like a spoiled child in the midst of throwing a tantrum.

"Just how old are you?" Corbin sighed impatiently, then gracefully let go of his hold on his moody best friend and sidled up beside the duo.

"Old enough." Benjy scowled and Hermione couldn't help but chuckle at the pair, they honestly never failed to amuse her.

It was always nice, easy-going and _almost_ normal whenever the two Hufflepuffs' were in the vicinity. It was too bad they weren't allowed to mingle during mealtimes though, with the exception of holidays of course, because she was sure sitting at the Hufflepuff table would be a lot like sitting at the Gryffindor table from her time.

But sadly that wasn't going to happen anytime soon.

Lunch was going to be a tedious affair. She could just feel it.

* * *

"Miss Edwards, could you please stay behind for a minute? I promise it won't take long." Professor McGonagall requested, as her students started to pack up their things in a hurry, eager to get out of the stuffy old classroom.

"Of course Professor." Hermione replied, as she looked at her favourite teacher.

While waiting for the other students to leave the room, Hermione finished packing up her things, not rushing like all the other students, who had almost packed up and left the classroom in record time.

When the sound of the old and heavy oak door closing was heard, Minerva let out a sigh and fanned herself in a moment of weakness, apparently eager to finally be rid of her obnoxious students. Hermione looked bemused at her Professor, but said nothing in regards to her actions.

"You wanted to see me, Professor?" Hermione inquired softly.

"Enough of that, we're in private Hermione." Minerva eyed her annoyed.

"Sorry…Minerva." The two shared a smile, and Hermione felt a small semblance of her old life returning. While Hermione knew they hadn't been as close as they were now, Minerva was still the Professor Hermione had cared the most about.

"Happy birthday, Dear." Minerva finally said, then reached for something in her pockets and seconds later she retrieved a small present, wrapped in the finest red paper and adorned by a pretty gold bow. Her favourite Professor was ever the Gryffindor.

Minerva enlarged the gift nonverbally and eagerly handed it to Hermione afterwards, almost giddy with excitement. Hermione was surprised to say the least, but took the enlarged gift most gratefully. It was the first present she had received in this time, and she would treasure it forever, regardless of what it might be.

"Well don't just stare at, open it!" Minerva huffed; insulted she hadn't immediately torn off the wrapping, yet Hermione had the feeling she would have complained too, had she acted like a savage.

"Sorry." Hermione mumbled amused, and began to tear off the beautiful red paper, now quite excited to see what her Professor had gotten her. It was a book. That much was obvious, judging by the form and size.

"I noticed your affinity for transfiguration, and I wouldn't be surprised if you would be able to find the form of your inner animal. Animagi can be a dangerous affair, but I trust you to treat the process with the utmost care, and as for whether you succeed or not, let's leave all the technicalities until then." Minerva explained with a hint of pride in her voice, as Hermione found herself looking at _Animals And Animagi; A Guide To Your Inner Animal_, a book she had been searching for - for years, _literally_ – but hadn't been able to find due to the dangers involved, hence why Hogwarts library had no copy.

Sure, the library had other books about Animagi, but this book was a guide, and according to the older Sirius it was brilliant. Apparently it contained a step-by-step manual, but of course, there was still no guarantee for success. She had searched for such a manual to give to Harry for Christmas, she knew he harboured a secret wish to become an Animagus, but as usual she was left to do the research part. Sadly, she had never found the book for Harry, and she had a sneaking suspicion that the book had indeed been at Hogwarts library once, but had been removed due to certain students.

Yet here she was, holding a brand new copy in her hands, and she could feel tears start to well up in her eyes.

"Thank you Minerva."

"You're welcome, Dear."

* * *

"You wanted to see me, Professor?" Going from one Professor till another, Hermione sat down in the chair across from the headmaster's desk.

"Oh yes, Miss Edwards, and congratulations, I do hope your birthday hasn't been too terrible. I know Minerva had a little something for you, did you find it to your liking?"

"Thank you, Professor. Yes, I think it will be an interesting read." She patted the newly received book on Animagi she had placed in her lap, and deliberately avoided the question about her birthday. She had no wish to speak about her birthday blues with Albus Dumbledore; at least Minerva had seemed to grasp her avoidance of any particular depressed feelings in regards to her birthday. She wasn't so sure the Headmaster would abide by the norms in terms of social understanding, but then again, when had he ever?

"Indeed." He nodded in agreement and eyed her curiously.

"No offense, Professor, but when are we going to pursue the horcruxes? It's been almost a month since I got here, and I might go batty if I don't do something…_productive_ soon."

"All in good time, dear girl."

"But Professor, I need to do something, anything..." She sounded desperate, but she didn't care. She had had enough of taking things slow and following her Headmaster blindly, and even though she hadn't told him any specifics yet (that way she was sure the old codger wouldn't leave her out of it, although there was always a chance he figured some of it out), she knew he had to have used the past month on _something_.

"I was under the impression that you are perfectly capable of making your own decisions and don't let anyone stand in your way once you have decided on something." He chuckled slightly, and his eyes twinkled knowingly as he looked over his grandfatherly half-moon glasses. "It surprises me that you have remained passive for this long."

She scowled. "This is war, and I am well aware of the fact that I can't just waltz right into danger on my own." She stated offended, but understood his reasoning for saying so; he was right.

"…Not without Harry and Ron at least." She whispered the last part to herself. It was barely perceivable, yet she had the feeling he heard her perfectly.

"Well, I suppose it couldn't hurt to indulge you a little." Her eyes darted up to meet his, almost nonbelieving of his words, and she looked expectantly at him, just waiting for him to continue like children awaited Christmas Eve.

"I have been gathering Order members for the past month, and have only just managed to find a suitable place to use for Headquarters. I'm afraid my search for horcruxes, or anything related, has been put on a hold for the time being." He frowned. "But seeing as the Order has now been put to work, I will now make time for our search – and research."

"Oh." She stated, surprised. "Of course getting the Order up and running is a vital piece of this puzzle, I realise that, but I'm just so used to its existence that I naturally counted on it being an active factor."

"But, of course, it has existed for some time now, merely in the beginning stages, which until last month was marked by the uncertainty and doubt lingering around potential members. Therefore your knowledge of the Order and its members has proved to be extraordinarily useful. It was actually the Headquarters that proved to be the tricky part."

"I can imagine." She said solemnly.

"But enough about the impending war!" He clasped his hands enthusiastically together and gave her a smile. "The reason I invited you to join me was, in fact, to enjoy a lovely cup of tea together."

She looked at her smiling Headmaster, perplexed and incapable of proper speech; simple words failed her like never before, as there was simply no reasoning with the enigma that was Albus Dumbledore.

_That's it! The old fool has officially lost it. _

* * *

On her way back to the Library, the absolute last stop before dinner, Hermione caught sight of three Slytherins further down the hall. Luckily, they hadn't seen her, as there was quite some distance between them. Hermione was used to spotting Slytherins long before they discovered the likes of her, which was probably why she could tell they were Slytherins at all.

In the 90s Hermione had learned not to approach a group of Slytherin guys, or girls for that matter, as they could be just as vicious if not more so, and she had especially caught on to the fact that a single muggleborn girl shouldn't be anywhere near a group of Slytherins alone.

Maybe it was just paranoia on her part, as she technically shouldn't have anything to fear now. She wasn't well known in the castle per se, at least not in the sense that would result in her being ganged up on. But of course, it was still dangerous times, regardless of the change of decades, and so she wisely kept her distance to the trio of Slytherins.

By the time the Slytherins reached the entrance to the library, it was just in time to see Lily Evans exit the old and heavy library doors, and a sinking feeling spread through Hermione.

This was bound to end badly.

"Look at that, isn't that Potter's little Mudblood?" Hermione could vaguely hear one of the guys begin; she was still not close enough to listen accurately, but she was certain she got the gist of it.

"Indeed. What do you think _it's_ doing all alone?" The guy in the middle continued unpleasantly, as they all approached the redhead. Hermione too crept closer, albeit hesitantly, not sure whether she should just turn around and leave the scene before they all spotted her.

"Perhaps _it_ ran away from its master?" The third taunted.

"Just leave me alone." Lily hissed at them, her cheeks starting to gain colour from being verbally assaulted, nervousness starting to spread through her like a wildfire.

They had her cornered and she knew it.

"So little Mudblood…not so tough now that you don't have Potter and his moronic cavalry?" The taunt was uncannily familiar, and strangely Hermione wasn't the one on the receiving end, which was something she had grown rather used to. Hermione recognized the boy, Cyril Mulciber, a future Death Eater prancing around like he owned the castle.

"You do realise I am Head Girl, right?" Lily spoke harshly, although her voice sounded a little off. It set the alarm bells in Hermione's head off; Lily never wavered, especially not when confronted like this.

But she held her chin high, proud and Gryffindor_ish_, if not a bit uncertain, but she was ultimately aware of the fact that she was outnumbered three to one, and wisely refrained from acting recklessly. Something Hermione wouldn't have done in a similar situation these days. Perhaps she would have done so in her prefect days, but now? Not a chance.

It may just have been Harry and Ron's influence speaking; they tended to rub off on her when it came to recklessness. She just hoped she had rubbed off on them, when it came to studying.

Maybe that was just wishful thinking on her part.

_Entirely wishful thinking_, she concluded ruefully, those boys would never lift a book willingly, unless, of course, it contained information about Quidditch.

"Head Girl or not, you are still scum. Perhaps your superiors should teach you your place." Hermione had no idea who that was, but his ridiculous comment ticked Hermione off. "Teach you just how unworthy of being here you are, you filthy little Mudblood."

_Wrong thing to say _buddy, _at a very wrong time too. _

"You are hardly worth the dirt on our shoes." the third sneered maliciously.

_Really? Now that's just plain rude, you inbred fuck_, she thought, thoroughly annoyed.

_Like those other comments hadn't been downright disrespectful either. _Her mind sneered back sarcastically.

"Honestly, don't you boys have something better to do? First years to hex, assignments to ruin?" Hermione interrupted, no longer wishing to remain passive in the unfair exchange of words. Lily might not be a very good friend to Hermione, but she was a sweet girl and a muggleborn to boot, not to mention Harry's future mother. Besides, Hermione had never been one to stand idly by when someone was treated unfairly.

"What's it to you, Edwards?" Mulciber said, as the unfamiliar boys turned around to look at the intruding Hermione.

Marlowe Avery and Amycus Carrow it was then. _Just her luck_. Present were Avery, Carrow_ and_ Mulciber, at the same time no less, and all three future Death Eaters.

"You stay out of this Edwards, it's no concern of yours." Avery grunted disgustingly.

"It most certainly is when you decide to gang up on a fellow muggleborn, not to mention Gryffindor." Lily seemed surprised at the revelation, as she let out a small gasp at the mention of being muggleborn. Although Hermione hadn't exactly kept the details of her heritage a secret, she still hadn't volunteered any personal information, so obviously it was a given she didn't know, that no one knew really.

The Slytherin guys' reaction, however, was by far the most entertaining.

"What? Are you telling me you're just a filthy little Mudblood like Evans?!" Avery looked beyond scandalized, as did the other two Slytherins. She hadn't exactly had much to do with them in classes, as she shared very few with them, but she knew who they were regardless.

It was amusing, honestly, how they couldn't even tell who had _pure_ blood or not. Although, the sham of a last name she bore was in no way a pureblooded one, so they might have thought her a halfblood at best, because of her magical ability and extraordinary intelligence.

"Are you deaf as well as stupid Avery? I believe that's what I said. Now sod off, before you ruin my good mood." Hermione taunted provokingly. She had played this game too many times to count, and she was done playing nice.

It was almost sickening.

_Whatever happened to that bucktoothed, shy and friendly little girl she had once been?_

"Wrong move, Edwards." Carrow said, his eyes narrowing to tiny slits as his posture straightened.

Hermione could see the boys were about to whip out their wands, notably angered by her words, but an action she had long since become accustomed to. Unfortunately for them, they were by no means the fastest dragons in the air, nor were they the lethal Death Eaters she remembered, yet.

The moment Hermione saw them reaching for their wands something in her snapped.

Much like the incident with Marlene, earlier that very same day, Hermione had her own wand out in a flash, sent a nonverbal_ Incarcerous_ at Mulciber and Avery which caused them to topple over, and she had Carrow up against the wall before he even got around to doing as much as blink, her wand digging mercilessly into the hollow of his throat.

"Wrong move on _your _part Carrow." She glared at him, and pressed her wand harder against the already bruising skin, ignoring his shock and undignified whimpers. "If I ever see you trying to draw a wand in my presence again, you _will_ end up in the Hospital Wing faster than you can say Quidditch. Mark my words; I have no patience for aspiring little Death Eaters. You disgusting piece of shite." Hermione sneered venomously, her eyes glinting with malicious glee, and she could vaguely hear Lily gasp in the background.

_Again with the cursing. What was the world coming to?_

"Hermione…let's just go, they aren't worth it." Lily whispered worriedly, gently grabbing Hermione's arm to stop the fierce exchange between students. Hermione spared Lily a glance, brief as it was, but still kept her attention firmly on the Slytherins, not wanting to give them an opening.

"You're right, they aren't worth a damn thing." Hermione sneered, hatred tightly woven into her words, while she slowly lowered her wand. She cast a nonverbal _Incarcerous_ at Carrow as well, knowing he would retaliate given the chance.

She didn't give him that chance.

"Oh, and just so you know…I'm docking points for this. Twenty points _each_ in fact." Lily said haughtily, trying to appear arrogant and unaffected by the exchange, even if she wasn't entirely back to her normal state of mind, her voice still tight and her body rigid. Still, she had regained some of her usual bossiness and she always got the last word.

Hermione on the other hand didn't care one wit anymore, and she couldn't get away fast enough. She quickly, and a bit clumsily, grabbed Lily's hand and started to drag her away from the three Slytherins bound by conjured rope. The girls could hear them yell profanities and what not after them, but Hermione ignored it completely, still dragging Lily by her hand.

"What about them?" Lily said nervously and kept stealing glances at the Slytherins, now quite far behind them.

"Either someone will find them and release them, or they figure out a way to free themselves. I highly doubt the latter, but I suppose it wouldn't do to underestimate them." Hermione said, a bit hysterically, her heart racing and her mind going a mile a minute.

"Oh."

* * *

Bloody buggering hell! That had been an unbelievably stupid thing to do; not only had she attracted the, _unwanted_, attention of future Death Eaters, but she had also gone and made an enemy out of them way earlier than planned by threatening their sorry arses.

They did play for team Voldemort, so she supposed the animosity was inevitable, as was the racism on their part, but she had not counted on making her stand in this war known just yet.

It was far too soon to be noticed.

She looked at Lily, who she was currently, rather forcefully, dragging down the hall, eager to get away from the, no doubt, angry group of Slytherins.

One fleeting glance at Lily told her that Lily wasn't ready to face the rest of the castle for quite some time, even if she appeared to have recovered somewhat. Still, she wasn't even sure _she_ was ready to face anyone after the volatile confrontation of Houses.

_To the kitchen then. _

* * *

Hermione led Lily to the entrance of the kitchen, swiftly entered through the huge portrait once she had tickled the pear, and quickly brought Lily to the old and shabby wooden table she so often occupied. Hermione ignored the curious glances coming from the bustling elves and only concentrated on getting a seat for Lily and her. By the looks of it the house-elves were busy preparing for dinner, so Hermione gathered they wouldn't disturb Lily and her for quite some time.

"You okay Lily?" Hermione asked softly, placing a hand reassuring on Lily's, as the other girl still seemed lost in thought and shaken by the encounter. It had been a close call for Lily.

"Sorry…" She snapped out of her daze, but kept her gaze locked on the table. "It's just, Mulciber, Carrow and Avery…they aren't very nice guys, especially not to people like me." Her eyes rose to look at Hermione. "People like us."

"I figured as much." Hermione said wryly, grimacing at the thought of the three Death Eaters in the making.

"Normally I would have retaliated, but they were three and I'm not stupid enough to start something I know I have no chance of winning. I might be a Gryffindor, but I do have a brain, which I choose to make use of. Most of the time anyway." Lily explained almost shamefaced.

"I can see your point. But surely they wouldn't have hurt you too bad? And before you say anything, I'm not naïve enough to think they would have passed up on a perfectly good chance to hex the resident muggleborn Head Girl. Although, you being Head Girl should have diminished the chance of being hexed too badly." Hermione said, frowning slightly.

"Normally yes, but in my case it's a bit different since I'm James' girlfriend. You have no idea how much they hate the Marauders. And recently things have gotten worse, way worse. Ever since Voldemort has gained more supporters really." Hearing Lily say Voldemort's name out loud, albeit a tad fearfully, threw her off for a moment. Then she considered the facts; he had not yet become He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, or You-Know-Who to the public. Saying his name was not unheard of, even if it was uttered with the utmost care these days, and the words laced with fear and trepidation. Not to mention that there was no taboo on the blasted anagram either. Yet.

"And it's only going to get worse." Hermione stated as-a-matter-of-factly, her thoughts haunted by the future to come.

"I think so too." Lily whispered sadly, her head hanging dejectedly and shoulders sagging in defeat.

A moment of silence passed between them, each mourning a loss; Lily the loss of innocence, as she knew the peace in the wizarding world wouldn't stay stable for long and the fight for equality would roam the wizarding world, and Hermione mourned the loss of everything she knew, and knew what was to come.

"What were you doing outside the library anyway? You don't patrol until after curfew, and you usually study in the common room with one of the guys, if not all of them." Hermione asked, as she refused to think depressing thoughts, shaking her head as if to rid herself of everything negative.

"Actually…" Lily started hesitantly, "I was looking for you, when Mulciber, Carrow and Avery confronted me."

"Why were you looking for _me_?" Hermione frowned, not expecting her answer.

"I owe you an apology, have so for quite some time now, and when Marlene made a shrewd comment about today being your birthday, I thought now was as good a time as any." Lily explained, a slight blush staining her normally pale cheeks.

"So you came because you pitied me." Hermione quirked an eyebrow challenging, feeling a bit irritated by the admission.

"No!" Lily exclaimed, her eyes widening in horror. "Certainly not, and you don't seem like the pitying type anyway." She paused for a moment. "Rather, I figured now might be a good time. Besides, no one should be alone on their birthday." She smiled somewhat forlornly.

"Good, I probably would have hexed you if you said yes."

"I don't doubt it. Whatever you said to Marlene today, I think it worked, because I haven't seen her so uneasy and out of it since first year, and that was back when Lucius Malfoy was Head Boy and scaring the crap out of her."

"That stupid bint should consider getting some actual manners; she would find herself with notably less enemies, I'm sure." Hermione said dryly.

"You're right." Lily sighed dolefully. "I don't know what's wrong with her lately, but ever since you arrived her mood swings have been ten times worse than usual. I know her father died last year under dubious circumstances, and that she changed a lot after that…but I don't know." Lily said, idly fiddling with a lock of red hair. "It's just everything lately, I think. There's this unbearable tension in the wizarding world, and everyone's afraid to address it properly." Lily tried to explain, a frown marring her beautiful features.

"People are scared and suspicious these days. And with good reason." Hermione concluded for Lily. "But that still doesn't give Marlene the right to antagonise me the way she does."

"You're right, of course." Lily paused. "I do hope you will forgive me for being an inconsiderate arse right along with her. If you want, I would like for us to start over again…but I completely understand if you don't." Lily blushed, her cheeks reddening adorably, and Hermione could tell it wasn't often Lily apologised like this.

She considered it, the sudden offer of friendship.

She wouldn't have to go through each and every day alone, but at what price? Could she just forgive and forget, take the offered olive branch and start anew?

Yes, yes she could.

Or she could try at the very least.

She was tired – of everything. She had the power to change everything for the better – or for worse, should anything go wrong - and with that power came responsibility. The survival of the wizarding world, as they knew and loved it, rested solely on her shoulders. They were hardly broad enough to shoulder her own personal burdens, and now it was expected of her to take on the rest of the English wizarding world's as well.

Recently she found herself looking back at the memory of Harry with a newfound respect.

No wonder the poor boy had so many emotional breakdowns. He was one _boy_ against the world, against Voldemort. And he was only human.

She had yet to actually come to terms with everything, and Dumbledore had refused to let her in on anything of importance, at least not until she had settled in properly. The barmy old fool had only hinted at the progress of his discoveries, and to make matters worse, she knew he monitored her actions closely, should she recklessly decide to act on her own.

_Meddling old coot._

"Hermione?" Lily asked, recapturing Hermione's attention, as her thoughts had strayed from their initial subject.

"I think I would like to take you up on that offer." She looked Lily directly in the eyes, brown meeting all too familiar green orbs.

She would try for Harry's sake. She had promised herself to try and make the best of this new life given to her, but so far she had been…sulking for lack of better words, hiding behind the excuse that was Marlene McKinnon, and the practically foreign Gryffindor and its alien inhabitants.

For Harry and Ron she would do it, but most of all, she decided, she would try for herself. She owed herself that much; she just hadn't seen it quite like that until now, not really, no matter how much she had tried to convince herself otherwise.

Lily didn't say anything, but as soon as the words left Hermione's mouth, the redhead presented Hermione with the brightest, most beautiful smile in her arsenal.

The smile took Hermione by surprise, and she felt like the wind was knocked right out of her with a single punch; she was once again reminded of her best friend, who had yet to be born, and she had to bite back a small gasp. Harry had so much of his mother in him, and he had never even known. Everyone had always told him he was the spitting image of his father, but Hermione had seen her fair share of glimpses of Lily too.

"I know friendship doesn't just bloom over night, and I know I'm not completely forgiven yet, I would be a fool to think otherwise, but I have this strange feeling that everything is going to be just fine." Lily said, speaking her mind, as she looked quite pleased with herself and the situation. It wasn't arrogant or conceited, but the kind of look Hermione had seen the other girl wear whenever she was genuinely pleased with something.

"Perhaps." Hermione cracked a smile. "At least you actually _like_ studying, so I think it's safe to say you already get extra points for that."

Lily snorted, "Studying is essential, I only wish the boys saw it that way. How they maintain their grades I will never know." She shook her head, and Hermione was reminded of herself, always fighting to keep Harry and Ron focused on school – but failing, how they had ever passed anything besides DADA was beyond her.

"And about Marlene…you know, you really bring out the worst in her I'm afraid." Lily chuckled merrily, the previous tension between them beginning to ease up.

"Yes, well, she certainly gets on my last nerve." Hermione's eyes darkened slightly, but Lily quickly interrupted the wave of negative emotions.

"Don't worry about her, I think she won't bother you for a while, and if she does anyway, I might just ask James and Sirius for some pointers to deal with her." Lily smiled mischievously, and Hermione had to bite back a grin. Lily wasn't so straight-laced as she appeared to be; they really were remarkably alike.

Perhaps her birthday wasn't so bad after all.

* * *

"You know you can tell me anything, right?"

There was nothing but silence coming from his Sirius' bed, and James wondered if Sirius had heard him or not. He had to have heard him though, there was simply no way he was asleep already.

"I know."

Again there was nothing but darkness and the light snores from Remus filling the room, Peter, oddly enough, never made a sound.

"Alright, that's all I needed to know." James conceded, sighing wearily and combed a hand through his jet-black locks, a bit annoyed Sirius didn't cave, but if he was completely honest with himself, he hadn't really counted on anything else.

This situation clearly called for a different pursuit.

"Did you know that Professor Dearborn plans on showing a slideshow next Monday? Apparently he wants to show some pictures from his time in Egypt. Mummies and stuff." James said suggestively instead, a sly smile making its way to his lips. Even if Sirius couldn't see James, he could still recognise the devious tone of voice he had heard more times than he could count.

"Really now?" Sirius turned around to look in James' direction, his eyes squinting to make out the silhouette of his best friend.

"Yes, he told me after I handed in my fabulous essay on Lethifold Attacks." James said playfully.

"That was awfully thoughtful of him to say, you know, so you have a chance to _prepare_ for the lesson." Sirius smirked mischievously.

"My sentiments exactly," James grinned in the dark. "Do you by any chance still have those Play Wizard magazines?" He then enquired innocently, "I mean, it would such a shame to let them go to waste."

"Why of course Jamie…You never know when they might come in handy." Sirius played along, of course; it was a game the two of them had perfected over the years.

"I think next Monday's DADA class is going to be very educational. Wouldn't you agree?" James continued eagerly.

"Very educational indeed." Sirius nodded along, although it was mostly done to himself, as the dark obscured James' view of him.

A loud groan came from Remus' bed and was followed shortly by something very incoherently, most likely speech obscured and muffled by pillows and blankets.

"What was that Moony?"

"Would you two just shut up? Some of us are trying to sleep." Remus said clearly this time, his voice no longer muffled by his pillow, and very aggravated by the two dolts who so rudely had woken him up from his peaceful slumber. Then a ruffle of sheets was heard, and it was clear the werewolf had already gone back to sleep, not even bothering to wait for their reply.

"Cranky…" James commented while rearranging his pillow.

"Nah mate, just sexually frustrated." Sirius explained, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Aren't we all?" James snorted and fell back against his pillow with a relieved sigh.

"Not me." Sirius said cheekily, and turned around so he faced the ceiling of his big canopy bed.

"Prat."

"Git."

"Manwhore." Sirius was just about to retaliate, when they were both interrupted again.

"In the name of Morgana, go to sleep! Both of you! Right this instance!" Remus sat up straight in his bed, pissed off and ready to murder the next person who dared to utter a word.

"Yes Mum." James and Sirius chorused stupidly, rolling their eyes in the dark at the bossy werewolf, and the boys could hear Remus mutter something very offensive under his breath. Luckily for them it was barely audible, as they no doubt would have been shocked by the profanities slipping past his lips.

"And I am most certainly not a manwhore! Take it back." Sirius whispered fervently to James, once he was sure Remus had calmed down again.

"Sirius! Sleep! Now!" Remus snapped unexpectedly.

Apparently he hadn't calmed down.

"Damn that supersensitive hearing of his." Sirius grumbled mostly to himself and he could hear James snicker to himself, trying desperately to muffle the sound, most likely by clamping a hand over his mouth.

"I heard that!"

* * *

In another part of the Gryffindor dormitories, the seventh year girls' to be exact, Hermione Granger, now Edwards, was trying to fall asleep, but for once found herself unable to.

It was the first birthday she had celebrated without Harry and Ron since she was thirteen. She didn't count her twelfth birthday for obvious reasons, as the trio hadn't exactly been friends at the time. Instead she had found herself celebrating her nineteenth birthday in 1977, two years prior to her actual birth, together with Lily Evans, Albus Dumbledore and Minerva McGonagall.

_How weird was that?_

TBC…

* * *

AN: Ta daaaah…

Yeah, I know. Don't hate me. Sorry for the wait, but work – and then school – got in the way. Anyway, it's not beta'd, as I have been waiting for my beta to respond for quite some time now, but she too has school.

I'll correct any mistakes once I receive the edited chapter, but for now this is it. :)

And thank you so much for all the lovely reviews! I can't tell you how much your support means to me.

Love

Winnie


	7. INTERLUDE: Beauxbatons (Part One)

Disclaimer: I own nothing as grand and spectacular as Harry Potter. I wish I did, though.

* * *

**INTERLUDE: Beauxbatons (Part One)**

* * *

_November 1977, somewhere in France._

The first thing Draco Malfoy noticed upon awakening (not counting the obvious lethargy weighing down his _very_ sore limbs) was the biting cold. And by the Gods above, or whatever deity one might devote themselves to, it was cold. The wind was frosty and unpleasant to anyone not equipped with proper winter attire, which Draco Malfoy unfortunately was not.

The next thing he noticed, this time a bit more cognizant than his earlier assessment of the current situation, was the fact that something, or rather someone, was munching on his hair.

His gorgeous blond hair was undeniably in the process of being devoured.

_Although not very successfully._ He sneered unpleasantly in his mind.

Then it hit him. _Hard_.

Someone, creature or not, was actually in the middle of eating his hair. The sudden revelation was backed up by a harsh yank to a large chunk of bleach blond hair, and in a matter of seconds, Draco Malfoy let out a shriek so terrifyingly shrilly that one might have confused him for a young girl. His eyes flew open as he sat up, but the sudden motion only caused whoever had a lump of his hair in their grasp to yank even harder.

Another scream erupted from his sore throat, as he felt the pain of multiple strands of hair leaving his scalp at once. The creature, he decided (who else would eat hair? Honestly…), seemed to back off and gave a startled snort. He turned his head around to look at the appalling beast behind him, just as his hands went to nurse his abused scalp. He could feel the tears well up in the corners of his eyes, and felt a sole treacherous drop of salty liquid roll down his cheek all the way to his chin.

He cursed like sailor. _Then_ he seemed to take in the magnificent beast before him.

Correction: the magnificent _beasts_ mulling about, everywhere. If his throat hadn't been so dry and sore after the first two pointless screams, then perhaps he would have found himself screaming yet again.

He certainly felt like it.

And of all things, he found that he recognised the giant beasts. They were no doubt Abraxans, like the ones he had seen in his fourth year. He didn't like them then, and he certainly didn't like them now.

And now he even had a reason to hate them too. To think that one had actually eaten a chunk of his hair, now that was just plain creepy (and not acceptable at all), yes it was no wonder he didn't like the monstrous beasts.

But more importantly – where the bloody hell was he? Last thing he remembered, he was fighting Death Eaters because the fucking Weasel had uttered the one word that was strictly forbidden. Trust him to fuck up a simple order like that.

Everything had gone downhill from there really, and to be honest he wasn't surprised. He should have seen it coming from miles away, yet he had still chosen to go along with the Golden Trio. All because of stupid Granger and her stupid screams that still gave him stupid nightmares. He knew they would have died otherwise, or worse (because death these days was nothing but a luxury), if he hadn't freed them and fled like a dragon was hot on their trail.

So because of one idiotic moment of weakness, he now found himself in the middle of nowhere, with no idea of how he got there and where to go next. And as far as he could see, he was in a meadow of a sort, surrounded by Abraxans, who eyed his beautiful blond hair with much interest.

He remained sitting for half an hour, contemplating how much he hated his life.

* * *

He got his bearings together at some point, and had solemnly started to explore the unknown terrain. For some reason he couldn't apparate, so it happened by foot, which was yet another reason to hate his miserable life.

After wandering around for quite some time he came across a castle, and he nearly yelled out in happiness, if it wasn't for the fact, that it was hardly appropriate behaviour for a Malfoy.

He had a sneaking suspicion that he had stumbled upon Beauxbatons, but it made no sense whatsoever. How could he possibly have ended up in France? France, of all places? The last thing he remembered was getting hit by a stunner, and the next thing he knows, he wakes up in a field of Abraxans ready to devour his precious hair. And now he stood, admiring what could very well be Beauxbatons.

The castle wasn't unlike his family estate near Toulouse; it was done in the same elegant, medieval build, only it was at least ten time the size. Like Hogwarts, it was a castle to be admired; the sheer size alone was enough to make one gape in marvellous wonder. It was a good thing he was used to such extravagance (because which Malfoy wasn't? It was practically a birth right.), otherwise he might have found himself looking like a mesmerised fool.

It was truly a stunning sight to behold, and he knew that if he wanted food, which his stomach desperately craved, then the only way to go about it was to sneak in. He didn't dare knocking. Food didn't come easy anymore, and hadn't done so since his time at Hogwarts. Even the time he had spent together with the Troublesome Trio, it had been clear to him that Granger ran the show. She was the one to carry all the important artefacts and what not, not to mention she was the one to distribute the food, scarce as it was. She ruled them with an iron-fist.

He had to admit though; she was clever and practical for a filthy Mudblood. And he doubted the Dim-witted Duo would have lasted long without her; they were practically naïve little children compared to her.

But that was somehow what it really came down to, wasn't it? They were children, all of them. They hadn't even graduated from Hogwarts, hadn't taken their N.E.W.T's and now they were expected to fight a war that not even their parents had managed before them. It wasn't fair on any of them. Because as much as he hated those of dirty blood, he certainly had no wish to see them caught by Death Eaters and thrown at the Dark Lord's feet.

By Morgana, even _he_ was close to shitting his trousers, whenever his bat-shit crazy Aunt came anywhere near him.

He had seen how they all tortured Mudbloods, right in front of him too, and no one deserved to live through that kind of horror. When he thought of his deranged Aunt and her lack of humanity, it was no wonder the Longbottoms ended up in the loony bin.

He might be vain and self-centred, but he was not evil. He had long since admitted that, even if he had his moments of doubt, and who in their right mind wouldn't after letting Death Eaters into Hogwarts? Letting his _Aunt_ into Hogwarts? Fenrir Greyback?

If nothing else, it had certainly made him question his sanity.

He rubbed his eyes, forcing the tears away. If anyone saw, he could always blame the cold. After all, Malfoys never cried, _never_.

His stomach growled more loudly, and he made his decision. He was sneaking in. He had to take the risk, as he had nothing of value on him, and most importantly – no food.

His wand was all he had now.

And now he was forced to resort to sneaking in and stealing food.

How the mighty Malfoy had fallen… He would have laughed, had it not been so sad.

* * *

She screamed.

It was bound to happen, he realised, and with a startling clarity. There was no way he could have snuck in and not be detected. It was a foolish notion and he only had himself to blame.

Minutes after he had snuck into the blasted castle, a little girl, who could be no more than eleven, discovered him.

And not only did she scream like her life depended on it, she did it excruciatingly loud as well. It was hardly surprising given the situation at hand, he supposed. He probably would have screamed too, had he gazed upon himself at that moment. Maybe if he hadn't been such a fool, to openly walk into what he assumed to be Beauxbatons, then perhaps his ears would have been spared the misery.

Honestly, what was wrong with him today? Breaking into Gringotts was probably more likely than breaching ancient school wards (how he had managed that, he still had no idea). It was all very surreal, not to mention slightly problematic.

And now he had no idea what to do; he was, quite literally, at loss for anything to say. Here he stood, in a barely lit hallway in one of the oldest magical schools in history, looking all dirty, tired and hungry. He most likely looked the part of a ragged savage stumbling through the wilderness, and of course, scaring the life out of a prepubescent girl.

_What a perfectly crappy end to an unbelievably crappy day. Unbelievable. And there goes my eardrums…_

What he wouldn't give to be at home.

Then he reconsidered that extraordinarily foolish thought.

What he wouldn't give to be at home pre-Voldemort and Death Eaters. But clearly home wasn't anywhere he should even consider going near at the moment. That is, unless he wished to be skinned alive, which he would be, or something equally horrendous.

Death Eaters clearly had too much time on their hands these days, and naturally the most important thing in the whole world was to practice how to torture people most efficiently. Or generally try out for the position of the most psychopathic nutter in the Dark Lord's ranks.

Yes, that was a given.

He missed the good old days. Days void of anything truly evil, unless you counted his sycophantic and slightly deranged father.

Because his father was truly fucked up, even _he_ could admit to that. It was almost pitiful how much he had once looked up to that misdirected monster. Yet deep down he couldn't blame his father for his idiotic actions.

Make that really, really, _really_ deep down.

Deep (deep, deep, deep) down he couldn't blame him, because his father's intentions and ideals were right. Mudbloods deserved to be treated like the dirt they were, they deserved to be punished for their impure blood and nauseating presence, but somewhere along the lines his father had forgotten what the Malfoys were all about.

Power and control were a given, and thereto came self-preservation by default. Self-preservation that was often, and wrongly, mistaken for cowardice. Nevertheless, Lucius Malfoy had relinquished any semblance of power and control the minute he agreed to the Dark Lord's commands, the minute he bowed down to a filthy half-blood (not that he had known that teeny tiny fact at the time). And as he had chosen to follow the lead of another, he had unwittingly thrown precaution to the wind and forsaken the golden rule of self-preservation.

His father was undeniably the biggest idiot the Malfoy family had ever had the misfortune to breed. How the man had shamed their family, disgraced generations of noble purebloods. He was certain Abraxas Malfoy was turning in his grave at the power-hungry half-blood defiling his ancestral home.

But to hell with his father, he still had his loving mother; and he missed her, more than could anyone could ever know. She was such a gentle soul, and sometimes he caught himself wondering why she had even as much as considered marrying Lucius Malfoy in the first place. His father was by no means an easy man to love, nor was he any easier to live with. Yet somehow Narcissa had chosen to remain faithful during the entirety of their marriage. He knew with certainty that his father had not been that courteous, but it was hardly surprising when considering his personality.

He pulled himself together; prying into the shallow lives of his parents was not something he should do. He had no business judging their relationship, but he had the right to hate his father for his bad choices. His father had tried to brainwash Draco from a young age, and he knew within himself that the hateful little boy who thought he owned the world was long gone.

It had been a long time since Draco had felt just a shred of narcissism, and he longed for the days where vanity and pride seemed to occupy his every waking moment. It was so easy to just fuck it all, act as a spoiled brat and walk all over those lesser than him.

Yes, everything was so much simpler back then, even if he had been a spoiled little prick (and that was not something he would ever openly admit). Nice and simple and safe.

For a split-second he let himself remember, let feelings of long lost happiness overwhelm him, allow memories to flood him and numb his senses. For a moment he wrongly let his guard down.

Then he felt it, the smooth yet hard tip of someone's wand digging hostilely into his back.

"_Who are you, and what are you doing here?" _A harsh voice demanded in French.

It was probably a good thing his mother had thought it proper to teach him French during his early years. Some rubbish about manners and etiquette. Then he tried to wrap his mind around the newfound trouble. Apparently he wasn't too far off in his assessment of his current location being Beauxbatons.

Well fuck.

He was officially screwed.

_TBC… _

* * *

Surprise! And sorry, no Marauders or Hermione in this chapter, they will be present in the next one though.

Again sorry for the wait, but I'm currently busy with school and an internship, but at least I don't have to work late hours anymore, so on the bright side I should have more time for writing. Whether I feel inspired and motivated or not, that's another matter. I can honestly say growing up and getting a taste of real life isn't quite as fun as I imagined it to be :/

But never mind my ramblings! I hope you enjoyed the chapter, despite the shortness of it. In between every five chapter there will be an interlude like this, just a fair warning. :)

AND THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ALL THOSE AMAZING REVIEWS! It's amazing, truly it is. I never expected 100 reviews, but believe me when I say that it makes me unbelievably happy! Thank you so much everyone, also to those of you who added it to your favourites and/or alert =)

Again, this is not beta'd, but I will get it done sooner or later (whenever there is time for it).

Love

Winnie.


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